Omega Refuge
by vulgar shudder
Summary: Pregnant, with no mate, and with no money, John Watson goes to spend the rest of his pregnancy in an Omega Refuge, where he will give up his baby for adoption. There he meets a seemingly careless pregnant Sherlock Holmes. More is going on in the refuge than meets the eye...Slash, Omegaverse, mpreg
1. Arrival

**Omega Refuge**

**Chapter 1 - Arrival**

_BBC sherlock fanfiction, no copyright infringement intended._

_Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson_

_Warnings: Slash, Omegaverse, Angst, Child death _

John Watson looked at the oh-so-tasteful copperplate lettering of the sign outside the Victorian building. Just the signs with its pastel purples and pinks made him feel sick.

_Omega Refuge_

But he'd fucked up his medication, and since then the cascade of events had led him to be disgraced, unwanted, and homeless.

He should really be grateful that Omega Support Network had managed to find him a bed to stay, where the cause of all the misery growing in his belly would be born and passed on to a suitable pair of loving beta parents.

Omega Refuges existed as a safe place for unbonded pregnant omegas to stay until they gave birth and the baby was adopted out to the increasing numbers of infertile betas. The trend in beta infertility over the past 50 years had led to abortion being illegal. John supposed he could have had an illegal one, but being outed as an omega, and a knocked up one at that had already caused an end to his military career. Despite his years of service, he had been dishonourably discharged, with no pension and homeless.

Harry had hit the roof when she'd found out, that he'd been dumb enough to get knocked up without being bonded. He suspected it was more jealousy that she and her bonded beta Clara hadn't yet been able to conceive, and after a few months of living with her he'd called the Omega Support Network.

Wearily he limped up the stairs to the building, and held down the intercom buzzer. "John Watson..." he said and the auto locked door was open, and a rather matronly omega was walking up the corridor.

"Mr. Watson." She smiled at him, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Dr..." He corrected, tensely shaking her hand back.

"Ah, Dr. Watson." She smiled politely at him. "I'm Ms. Collins. So glad we could help you out in your time of need."

John resisted the urge to sigh; he really hated the flowery, hippy language that got attached to omega culture. Lots of claptrap talking about opening chakras and feeling the way of the omega inner birth goddess. Three months of this bullshit. He kept his smile polite, none the less.

"Let me show you to your room." Ms. Collins said to him, taking his duffle bag without taking heed of his reluctance and showed him down the hall.

They passed an open communal area that faced out onto the gardens, with high ceiling windows and alcoves.

The whole house seemed strangely quiet and he was almost relieved to see another omega sitting in the common area, lying on a leather sofa with his feet up, one hand resting absently on his swollen belly. His other hand held a cigarette between his fingers, as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Sherlock, what have I told you about smoking indoors!" Ms. Collin scolded.

"I'm thinking..." came the deep baritone voice, and he brought the cigarette to his lips to take an inhale.

Incensed, Ms. Collins stomped over to the reclining man and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. She looked around for somewhere to dispose of it, before settling on the cup of tea on the coffee table where it fizzled out and ruined what was left of the tea at the same time.

"If only you'd think about the precious baby of yours, and of the other babies in this sanctuary," she chided, placing her hands on her hips.

Sherlock moved his eyes over her, then they settled on John. The doctor felt uncomfortable being under the other man's stare; it was almost as if he was reading him. "Hmm..." The omega made a sound from his throat, before refocusing on Ms. Collins who was still hovering over him. "The bastard children." She was about to open her mouth to chide him again but he cut her off. "Do you honestly not regret giving up your own unbonded baby, Ms. Collins?"

Something about the woman's demeanour changed, and her lips pressed together in hesitation. "That's..." She began, but the younger man cut her off.

"25 years ago now, that nice alpha girl from down the street. Didn't she promise you to be together forever? Didn't that first heat feel so wonderful, you thought you were going to be so happy together, that little happy family." He snorted, lips twisting cruelly. "But she dumped you, didn't she."

There was a tense moment before Ms. Collins responded. "No smoking inside the building Mr. Holmes," she said briskly, before turning on her heel.

John glanced between her and the pregnant omega, his eyes catching the cool grey ones that were studying him now. He pulled away, quickening his step to catch up with Ms. Collins.

oOo

Years in the army and bad dreams meant that John always woke early. He lay there in his single lavender room, waiting for signs of dawn to creep under the curtains.

John had been at the refuge for a week and it was terribly dull and depressing. Pregnant omegas lazed around waiting for their bellies to grow, until the day they disappeared to the hospital, never to be seen again.

There were various activities; anti-natal classes, yoga, group counselling where they sat around in a circle and convinced themselves that giving up their babies was the best thing to do. John couldn't help but notice he was one of the oldest omegas there, like he should have known better at his age. It was embarrassing and he felt like he had little in common with the young, inexperienced omegas. He had been to medical school, had a career in the army, until he fucked up by not taking enough heat suppressants with him on a routine mission to an outpost in the more volatile regions.

It was supposed to be only an overnight stay, but their return route became an insurgent hot spot and they found their logistics routes cut off. Not even a heli could get through. Within a week he had gone into heat; it was obvious to everyone and Murray had `helped him out`.

The rest was history. That now resided in his stomach, as he ran a hand over the stretched fabric of his jumper. John sighed, yeah his baby was a fuck up but as time progressed and omega hormones flooded his system, the more he wanted to make sure this baby had the best chance. That meant giving it to a pair of loving Beta parents, his logic told him.

John looked at the steadily ticking beside clock. 7am time for breakfast. He dressed and went down to the dining hall, where the usual breakfast selection of toast and cereal was available. It was worse than the army; in the army at least there was a fry up available most days.

He waited for some toast to pop up from the industrial sized toaster and took it on a tray, with some blackcurrant jam to an unoccupied table. Most of the other omegas would form small groups and sit together, but John didn't really know anyone so well.

John treated himself to an extra thick layer of jam on his toast, and munching through it methodically until he was startled by someone taking the place opposite him. It was the omega he had met when he had first arrived, Sherlock.

He had only occasionally seen him at the mandatory activities and sessions. When he did deign to make an appearance he was snide and condescending over the tasks, making disparaging remarks about any of the staff who tried to herd him. Overall, Sherlock Holmes had a bit of a reputation about the refuge of being an arsehole and best avoided. Now though this pregnant omega was trying to fit his belly under the table with just a lone cup of tea in front of him and staring at him.

John was not intimidated and his doctor's instincts kicked in."You should really have more than a cup of tea for breakfast you know," he said in disapproval.

"It's decaf. It hardly counts as tea," Sherlock shot back, eyes narrowing slightly as he took a sip from the steaming mug.

John ignored him, picking up another slice of toast, trying not to let the thick jam drip off as he manoeuvred it to his mouth..

The other omega wasn't done. "So, you're a doctor."

That made John stop toast midway to his mouth, and a lump of jam dropped onto his plate. "How did you know?" He asked.

"I heard you correct Ms. Collins." Her name was said with some disdain. "When you arrived."

"Oh..." John said, a little relieved.

"But an omega army doctor, now that is unusual!" Sherlock said with a smirk.

John dropped his toast onto his plate. "How did..?"

Sherlock was already waving him off. "I observed that from your stance, hair cut, faded tan lines..." He said this as if it was as obvious as John's rounded stomach, to which he gestured. "Dishonourably discharged I see."

John's appetite was suddenly gone, despite blackcurrant being his favourite. "Yes."

Sherlock hummed before appearing to lose interest in the matter. His piercing eyes honed in on one of the tables across the dining room. "Do you see Sally?"

John glanced over his shoulder, then slowly back at Sherlock. "Yes..."

Sherlock still had his eyes trained on her, "She's having second thoughts about giving up her baby for adoption."

John gave him an incredulous look. "She hasn't said anything in counselling..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes."Why would she? Anyone who expresses doubt is oh-so-gently reminded what a burden unbonded omega status would be, as a single omega struggling to raise a child alone, with the added shame to themselves and their child..."

John blinked slowly, gazing down for a moment at his own engorged stomach pressing against the table. "Right..." he replied tensely.

Sherlock didn't seem to notice John's discomfort. "In your medical opinion, does Sally seem well in both mind and body?"

John was caught off guard with that question. He tried to think of the little he had seen of Sally around the home and during their shared activities. "As far as I know, yes," he managed.

Sherlock hummed over his tea again, eyes still on the heavily pregnant Sally. Without a thank you or goodbye, he drained the cup, Somehow still managing some grace he twisted out the chair, leaving the dining room and the mug for John to presumably clear away.

oOo

John had forced himself to go to omega yoga. He told himself that it would relax him, free up his aching joints. Most of the omegas in the refuge were there his surprise, Sherlock was too. It could be his imagination but, since their talk in the dining room two days ago, Sherlock had attended nearly every activity the refuge offered, although he complained and whinged through everything. Yesterdays' counselling had left several pregnant omegas in tears.

He tried to tune out the teacher's talk of opening chakras, but that was made difficult by Sherlock's loud groans of "moronic..." and "and where's the evidence for these chakras!" from the back of the activity room.

By the time they had moved onto light stretching, the yoga teacher was red-faced. Sherlock had given up and was lying on his yoga mat, saying he felt he had pushed himself to his physical limits and needed to spend the rest of the lesson in dead man's pose, meditating.

John looked more than a little enviously at the prostrate man, who had a hand on his stomach, fingers drumming a light rhythm. The teacher continued to drone on as she talked them through the poses and of moving their Omega energies to their loins. He couldn't take this new age shit any more and he straightened up apologetically. "Sorry, need the loo," he said in a low voice to the teacher and tried to slink out around the yoga mats as unobtrusively as possible. As he passed Sherlock towards the back, their eyes locked and they shared the pain of Omega Yoga for a brief second.

"I need a cigarette," Sherlock announced and rolled himself up to join John in putting on their shoes. With their backs to the teacher, they shared a grin and pushed through the door. John instantly let out a relieved sigh.

"As expected, utter clap trap," Sherlock said, eyes scanning the corridor for exits.

"Why did you come then?" John asked.

"Why did _you_ come?" Sherlock answered back and picked the way to go outside.

"Yoga is said to be beneficial for prenatal health..." John said, matter of fact, following as quickly as he could after Sherlock to escape from the refuge.

He let out a breath when the fresh air hit his face but noticed Sherlock was moving off again around the ornate garden. Sherlock was further gone than he was; John was slightly amazed at how quickly he could move. It was a secluded spot in the corner with a bench, where Sherlock flopped down and seemed to find some kind of relief.

"Backache?" John asked, easing himself down a bit more gently. Sherlock nodded and John smiled back in sympathy. "It's a bitch. How far along are you?"

Sherlock seemed to tense a bit as he said, "34 weeks."

"About another 6 weeks to go then..." until Sherlock gave up his baby. Man, there really wasn't any safe topics to talk about was there.

Sherlock seemed to let go of his tension though and shrugged. "Could be less."

"Or more. Babies are not known for their punctuality..." Maybe Sherlock was really just keen to have the baby and move on with his life.

Sherlock seemed to grow serious. "Sally is nearly due and she wants to keep the baby," he announced.

"Oh..." John said surprised, trying not to let his own hand go down to his stomach. "Well, that's quite...natural, and her legal right."

Sherlock nodded. "Hormones flooding the system, urging the omega to bond with their child. Not completing the bond after birth is said to be most distressing to the omega. 23% of Omegas back out of the adoption process in the two months prior to childbirth." The dark-haired man said this as if he was reading out of a text book.

John finally looked at Sherlock, trying to study his face for emotion. "Don't you feel it? The bond?"

A low chuckle emanated from Sherlock's throat. "Haven't you heard? I'm a sociopath."

John frowned, "A sociopath? Really?" He wasn't so convinced.

"How about you? Second thoughts?" Sherlock asked, his head turned to John as if to gauge his reactions.

John hesitated. There that was the reaction Sherlock was looking for. "No," He managed to say out but he'd already given himself away. The closer it got to the day he'd have to hand over his baby, the bigger the pain in his heart grew. He'd started entertaining fantasies about being a single father, damning the stigma he'd get and any chance he had of finding a bond mate.

He knew these feelings would come; it was biology and he prepared himself for them. Or so he thought. Biology chose that moment to give him another kick, quite literally. He felt the fluttering within his belly and automatically covered his hand with the sensation. "She's kicking," he explained to the man next to him.

Sherlock looked either surprised or alarmed."What does it feel like?" He peered closely at John's belly as if there was an alien life form in there.

John ran his hand over his sizeable belly, smoothing his jumper over it. "Like someone's flicking me with their finger from the inside...it gets stronger." He frowned at Sherlock. "Doesn't your baby move?" he asked. Sherlock shook his head. John's frown grew in concern, "Is everything OK? Have you been going to prenatal checkups?"

Sherlock noticed John's worry and shook his head. "Yes, everything is normal. It doesn't move much is all."

John tried to push his medical worry aside. Maybe this was Sherlock's way of coping with the adoption process, distancing himself. He seemed interested in John's own bump.

"You can touch if you want." He held his hand out for Sherlock, who cautiously let John take his larger hand and place on the right spot of his stomach in time with a nice kick.

Sherlock pulled his hand back in surprise and let out a soft "Oh..." before cupping his hand back over the spot to feel light movement there.

John was bemused at Sherlock's reaction. "She's been getting stronger...quite annoying when I want to sleep."

Sherlock was still touching and staring at the spot. "It must be boring in there...ah, she's tired now," Sherlock said, moving his hand over John's belly and placing his other next to it, trying to feel for more. "She's turned over to go to sleep."

The sensations had slowed and got gentler, but John laughed. "You're guessing."

Sherlock could barely restrain his smirk. "I do not guess, I deduce." The movement had completely stopped now and, as if embarrassed that he was manhandling John's bump, he tried to regain his composure. "That was...informative. Thank you, John."

John shrugged. "Happens all the time."

Sherlock pushed himself off the bench and crouched down a few meters away from John to sit on the grass, where he fished out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

The doctor gave him a very disapproving look. "You really shouldn't smoke, as you know."

"I know," Sherlock said, lighting a cigarette anyway, leaning back on his hands to let his jacket fall open across his own big belly.

Sherlock's lack of concern or awareness of his own body and baby was...unusual. Maybe that's why people said he was a sociopath? John was certain by now that was wrong. He closed his eyes to enjoy the open air and spring sun on his own skin.

oOo

It had been a rather tense group counselling session. Sherlock seemed intent on picking apart Sally's logic for giving her baby up for adoption, to the point where she had snapped, called him a "freak!" and stormed out of the room. Ms Collins had arrived and asked to see Sherlock, who had never returned back to the session. John was probably the only person who could stand Sherlock's company, and had covered his face in second-hand embarrassment throughout the whole incident.

The session had meandered along after that. Everyone was grateful to get out of their chairs and shuffle out to the common room.

Ms. Collin's had been hovering by the door and she caught his eye as he passed. "John may I speak to you," she asked in that overly soft voice of hers.

"Ok..." John agreed and she led him to her office on the 2nd floor. It was a welcoming space; a large abstract oil painting hung behind her desk, which was probably supposed to symbolise the omega birth energies and capacity of life, John mused.

She helped him down into the chair before making him a cup of tea and leaving it on the desk. "Now John. While it is really good to see you socialising with other omegas here, none of you have bond mates and the support we can offer each other is invaluable in giving your baby the best start in life."

Ms Collins looked uncomfortable from her side of the desk."However I've really got to question the wisdom of your association with Sherlock Holmes."

John was taken aback. It really wasn't any of her concern as to who he associated with. "Um, really?"

She looked hesitant. "Sherlock has a lot of...issues. I really shouldn't say this but he was referred to the Omega support network after a stint in rehab." She clasped her hands in on top of the desk. "His child was not conceived in the best of circumstances as you can imagine and, while he has made the best decision to give his baby to a loving stable home, his attitude and manner is quite..." The older omega looked for the best word. "Poisonous. He hasn't been trying to convince you not to give up your baby for adoption?" she asked.

John wasn't sure how to respond to that. He had suspected that Sherlock had been bred in less than stellar circumstances and the drugs were not surprising. "Um no," he finally managed. "He's not trying to persuade me of anything."

Mrs. Collins looked relieved, and stood up to go around the desk. She placed an uninvited hand on John's stomach. "Good, because you know in your heart that adoption is the best thing for you and your baby."

John gave her a tense smile. "I am well aware of that." But it's my fucking choice. He was liking her less and less.

oOo

John was dreaming of starry deserts and tanned Afghan children when he was jolted back to England and reality by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He batted away the hand in shock and tried to scrabble away, only to realise it was Sherlock Holmes in a dressing gown and tatty old pyjamas. He was using his phone to illuminate his face, and he looked like some kind of ghost. John looked at the bedside clock, barely making out the hands that said it was quarter past three in the morning.

"Jesus Christ Sherlock!" John said, rubbing his face. "You nearly frightened me to death!"

Sherlock didn't apologise. "We need to break into Ms. Collins' office while the night worker has been called away by a family emergency, which will turn out to be false."

John squinted up at the taller man. "What?"

"Well, you don't need to break in, but I need you to be a look out."

"No!" This was absolutely barking, John was not going along with a Sherlock Holmes scheme when he could be sleeping. To make his point, he rolled over with his back to Sherlock.

He felt a depression on the bed behind him. Sherlock's voice was much softer now, "I know what has been said about me, but you need to trust me that there is something afoot in this refuge, and it is imperative that I discover what it is."

John had never heard Sherlock sound so serious. He rolled himself back over and up to look the other man in the face, his expression as grave as his voice. "Well, what is it?"

"I can't explain that, just please believe me it is of the utmost importance, for yourself more so than me. Just trust me, my actions are not intended to hurt you..." his eyes flicked down to the where their stomachs nearly touched. "Or your baby. Quite the opposite."

John studied Sherlock's face some more before nodding. "Ok, I'll trust you." God help him...

The dim light from Sherlock's phone illuminated a grin and he helped pull John up off the bed. "Excellent," he said, picking up the dressing gown off the chair and helping John into it. "I estimate we have 25 minutes before the miscommunication is discovered and the staff member arrives back."

The lights were out in the refuge but Sherlock had no problem navigating the darkened corridors quietly. Impatient with John's slowness, Sherlock grabbed his hand to pull him along. "Don't rush me!" he hissed lowly at Sherlock. How the fuck could he move so swiftly? John was nearly a month further from his due date than Sherlock, and he practically waddled about the place.

Thankfully, Sherlock let John take his time on the stairs and they were soon outside Ms. Collin's locked office. Sherlock thrust his phone at John to hold, and pulled out a set of lock picks from his dressing gown. "Keep an eye out," he told John as he crouched down to start working on the lock.

It clicked open and Sherlock pulled John in flicking the light on to the office. He arranged the door so it was open a crack and positioned John at it. "If you see car headlights tell me, likewise if any of the omegas come," he directed.

"Can you get me a chair?" John asked. Sherlock looked irritated before giving in and pulling up a chair from the desk. John let out a sigh of relief before starting his job as look-out.

Sherlock had meanwhile started up the desktop computer up, and started going through the desk drawers.

"What exactly are you looking for?" John asked from the chair.

"Evidence," Sherlock replied, going through a file of records.

John waited for more of an explanation, but none was forthcoming. "Of what?" he asked again.

"Something quite sinister and evil," was all Sherlock replied, abandoning the file on the desk and going another set of file drawers.

That seemed to be all Sherlock was offering at this time; John resisted rolling his eyes.

Fifteen minutes passed and there had been no sign of anyone or a car. John had a rather pressing problem however. "Are you done?"

Sherlock was now on the computer, transferring things to a USB stick. "No," he said, engrossed in his file hunting.

"I just...need to pee, Sherlock." John told him, the urgency of the matter growing quickly.

Sherlock gave him a confused look. "What?"

"I need to pee, like, right now!" John tried to tell him.

"But if you pee then who will be look-out, it's unacceptable, John." Sherlock told him before trying to turn his attention back to the computer.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I am up-the-bloody-duff and a baby pressing on my bladder doesn't care if it's acceptable or not," John said, temper rising. "Fucks sake, it's like I'm talking with someone who doesn't know what it's like."

Sherlock's face was blank. "Fine then, go."

Annoyed, John managed to push himself up out the chair but as he looked out the crack of the door he saw car headlights flash up the drive. "Shit, Sherlock. Car's back."

Sherlock cursed and ripping the USB drive out of the desktop, and stuffing a few papers into his pocket. They did what they could to arrange things backs as they were and quickly left the office, letting the door lock again behind them. "Toilets!" Sherlock whispered, taking John's hand again to not leave him behind.

The toilets were by the side entrance staff used but, providing they could get in there in time, once the staff member was back in the main office for the night they could probably slip back upstairs unnoticed.

Sherlock pulled John into the single toilet and, quietly as possible, closed the door behind them. John was sweating and out of breath from the exertion and the fear of being caught doing something more than a bit not good.

Unexpectedly, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's shoulders from the side as best he could do without their bellies getting in the way. "Shhh..." he said into John's ear quietly, and letting his head drift down on top of John's shoulder.

The doctor could feel a steadier heartbeat than his own and tried to get his breathing in time with Sherlock's slower pace.

They heard the side door open and Claire, the night worker, arrive back. Sherlock's arms tightened around John; his hand stroked the back of John's head pressing his face into the crook of his neck. They stayed like that, quiet and calm, until they heard the footsteps go and even then lingered more than necessary. John felt protected and safe, like something in him had been missing something that this simple contact had reminded him of.

It was Sherlock that came to his senses first, and he slowly pulled away, a hand slowly slipping over John's round belly under his dressing gown before taking a step back. "It should be ok now."

John felt like crying at that loss of contact, and he fought back tears. It was just the hormones and the stress of the past 6 months. "I really do need to pee still," he said, trying to distract himself from his emotions.

Sherlock nodded, backing away slowly towards the door. "I'll go first." He was hesitating with a hand on the handle. "You'll be ok?"

"I think I can just about manage a pee and the stairs." John told him dryly.

Sherlock nodded and, looking rather shell shocked himself, opened the door to quietly slip out from the toilets.

Get a hold of yourself, John told himself and went to relieve his bladder before he had the indignity of pissing himself. He managed to get back up to his room and it was only when he was lying in bed, replaying that moment of contact over and over again, that he realised there was something odd about the memory. Sherlock didn't smell like a pregnant omega, or an omega for that fact. It was so...neutral, like someone who used neutralising body scrubs rigorously. When John was pressed so close to Sherlock's neck, though there was something underlying that was not missed by the omega parts of his brain.

_Author notes: Bare with me with the plot in this omegaverse (what was I thinking), things are gonna get messed up but there will be porn. Much love to my betas. Really curious about what people think so comments most appreciated!_


	2. Revalations

**Omega Refuge**

**Chapter 2 - Revelations**

_BBC Sherlock fanfiction, no copyright infringement intended._

_Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson_

_Warnings: Slash, Omegaverse, Angst, Child death _

John slept fitfully, thoughts and emotions churning through his mind. He had a million questions, and only one person could answer them. As soon as he heard the first omegas stirring for breakfast, John got up and dressed.

As naturally as possible, he made his way down the corridor to where Sherlock's room was located. Not even knocking he let himself in, to see Sherlock sitting on the bed in his pyjamas and dressing gown still, working on a laptop.

He barely acknowledged John, who cleared his throat loudly to get his attention. "Not going to tell me what that was all about last night?"

"What was what about?" Sherlock asked not looking up from the screen, thumb swiping over the touch pad in a scrolling motion.

"Breaking into Mrs. Collins' office?" John reminded him.

Sherlock gave him a glare from under his messy black hair that said no, he was not going to tell him.

John was losing patience but he forced himself to remain visibly calm. "How are you feeling today?"

The swiping motion stopped for moment. "Fine," Sherlock said as he regarded John with an air of suspicion.

"Oh that's good, because you know I feel like shit most of the time. Backache, swollen ankles...baby been moving more?" John enquired innocently, taking a few steps closer to Sherlock on the bed.

Sherlock started giving the other man his full attention now. "Yes," he said carefully.

"Oh," John said a relieved smile. "That's great. Mind if I have a check, put my mind at rest?"

Sherlock's eyes widened in alarm. "Yes I do mind," he said, backing away off the opposite side of the bed.

"Oh come on Sherlock, I'm a doctor!" John tried to look as harmless and omega-ly as possible, edging around the bed to trap Sherlock in against the wall.

"No!" Sherlock tried to sound defiant but had backed into the corner of the room. The only way to escape John would be to bolt over the side table and bed, and with the panic in his eyes John thought he might.

The smaller man stopped his advancement. "Look at me Sherlock," he said in a gentle lulling voice. "It's just me..." If his hunch was right, then biology would be helping him out right now. "Just...John. I want to help you, and you want to help me," he reminded Sherlock, keeping his eyes locked with the light grey eyes.

Sherlock looked like a snake mesmerised by a charmer, and didn't move as John closed the last few steps between them. John slipped his hand under his tshirt, and Sherlock's head hit the wall as he looked up at the ceiling. "John..," his voice escaped small and helpless from his throat.

John's hand didn't come into contact with warm skin, but some kind of moulded silicon. "What the fuck?" His hands pulled Sherlock's stretched t-shirt over the bump to examine it closely. "That is not a fucking baby Sherlock. You're not even an omega are you?"

"The deception is necessary..." Sherlock began, but his eyes were still fixed firmly on the ceiling.

"Jesus, you're an alpha aren't you!" John jumped back, putting his hands onto his head in disbelief. "They weren't kidding about baby brain were they? How could I miss this! I'm a fucking doctor!" All the little details from the past month he'd known Sherlock were adding up; it seemed so obvious now. "I thought...I thought you were lying or in denial or something..."

"It is weighted, the back pain is genuine." Sherlock offered as a small comfort to John.

John needed to sit down, and slumped onto the bed. "Are you insane Sherlock? You're an alpha in an omega refuge!"

Sherlock had regained some of his cool composure. "I assure you I am in control of my biology, it is just transport," he said a bit defensively.

"There are 11 pregnant omegas in this place. You can't tell me that all the hormones are not messing with your head." Normally a bonded alpha would become attuned and pliant to their mate's needs, and extremely protective. Even an unbonded alpha though, if they spent enough time with an unbonded omega, would develop similar urges, which is one reason why alphas avoided unbonded pregnant omegas like the plague. "Why are you doing this?" Did Sherlock have some kind of fetish or was he just insane?

Sherlock's composure and calm had pushed through and he coolly replied, "do I look like I've been driven into some kind of bonding frenzy? I am taking suppressants, and I can assure you sentiment will not move me in a similar manner. This is all for a case. I am a detective."

"A case?" John asked. "Explain. Now." He got up close into Sherlock's personal space again, making it very clear that, while he was 7 months pregnant, he was not to be fucked with.

Maybe biology, or just how fierce John looked but Sherlock found himself submitting to the smaller omega. He held his gaze on John steadily though. "Missing persons," he admitted. "A 19 year-old male omega went missing 5 months ago, last known to be residing here. My investigation showed this was not an isolated case of omegas going missing with a connection to this charity," the last word was spat out with some distaste.

"Oh god..." John had to back down to take that in, and sit heavily on the bed. "Do you know what happened to them?" A prickle of fear was creeping down his spine.

"I have theories but..." Sherlock sat down on the bed next to John and glanced over his shoulder at the laptop. "No evidence. There are no records of the missing omegas. I am trying to find records of what happened to their babies but no luck."

John knew Sherlock was being purposefully obtuse about what was going on. "What are your theories?"

"Black market baby selling, covered up as donations to this charity. Want a baby, pay a large sum, find your name miraculously at the top of the waiting list. Which is why I think this refuge has an exceptionally high adoption rate. Refunds on babies are awkward."

The fear turned into something else and betrayal bloomed in John's chest. "Were you going to tell me this?" he asked angrily. "Were you going to let them sell my baby like some prize calf?"

Sherlock was taken aback by the anger and looked unsure how to defuse it. "No, I was going to solve the case. I don't know what happens to the omegas who back out of the adoption process or try to come back for their babies in the 30 day legal cooling-off period. I was going to observe Sally Donovan to see what happened when she tried to renege on the deal." Frustration visibly bristled off him. "However, all her paperwork is good and ready to go. I think she's been convinced adoption is the `best thing`."

John looked appalled. "You were going to let God knows what happen to Sally?"

"Well, only to a point!" Sherlock objected. "There might be a chance the omegas are still alive. I need a lead as to where they are and I need to know if this is a one-off or part of a wider network."

The chance...John's mind filled with the possible scenarios and didn't know which ones were more horrific: that the omegas were simply dead, or kidnapped and held against their wills somewhere, being used as breeders. "Oh god..." John felt sick and he started crying, warm salt tears spilling over his cheeks.

He was aware of Sherlock watching him carefully. "Why are you crying?" the detective asked, slightly perplexed by the sudden outburst of emotion.

"I don't know..." John tried to control any sobs escaping but was failing miserably. He was usually stronger than this, a doctor and military man that kept a cool head. "Hormones I guess..," he told Sherlock, using his sleeve to try and wipe away the tears.

Sherlock nodded, "I have observed this behaviour frequently over the past 6 weeks. First I thought it was to do with the general omega malaise associated with the adoption process but it seems to occur with random stimuli, especially watching daytime television. Will crying make my undercover persona more believable, John?" the alpha asked in all seriousness.

"Shut up, you prick." John stroked his belly protectively, really very sorry at what he had got his child involved in. He was trying to think what to do.

"I have also observed unpredictable irritability at little or no provocation..." A whack to his arm discouraged Sherlock from sharing any more of his `observations`.

They sat in an awkward silence as John continued to cry, and twitching his fingers nervously over his belly. Suddenly, in a similar move to last night, Sherlock wrapped one arm around John's shoulders and resting his head down there. "What are you doing?" John asked in surprise.

"Research shows that familiar alpha scents and physical contact have a calming effect on distressed omegas with child," Sherlock said as soothingly as possible. "I've not showered with neutralising scrub yet," he explained.

"Ah..." John murmured softly, turning his face into the mass of dark hair almost without thought. "So that was what you were doing last night. That'll be my pheromones messing with you. If an alpha is familiar enough with the omega, they dislike seeing them in distress..." He had already stopped crying, and it was taking all his willpower not to nuzzle further into Sherlock's hair. Every breath of Sherlock's natural musky scent did seem to slowly calm him; the alpha pheromones telling his body he was safe, protected and to relax. John allowed his eyelids to droop."The effect is amplified with pregnancy. So much for your control over your biology."

Sherlock tensed at that but did not move from his position. "It's not like that. You are..." However, the alpha could not hide the relaxed tone of his voice and he finished rather weakly, "...invaluable to the case."

John let go of a deep sigh, and asked, "What are you going to do about the case?"

"Go back to my original plan."

"Which is?"

"I will myself back out of the adoption process," Sherlock muttered, his free hand absently creeping up to fondle John's belly with his finger tips, as if curiosity was getting the better of him.

John watched those long fingers exploring with a gentleness he wouldn't have imagined from Sherlock. "You mean inviting them to kidnap you? But they'll realise you're faking..."

"Hopefully I'll find some leads before then..."

"I could always..." John began but the tightening of the other man's arms around him cut him off, and Sherlock's head whipped up to look directly at John with a piecing stare.

"Absolutely not!" Sherlock snapped.

"But..," John tried to protest.

"There is too much personal risk to you," Sherlock nearly growled.

With some effort, John twisted out of Sherlock's grasp and shuffled along the mattress away from the alpha. "That's your hormones talking. I can at least..."

Sherlock stood up to pace the small room. "No John," his jaw clenched visibly. "I will solve this case alone."

oOo

John had an appointment at the Doctor's that morning. He had refused to have a chaperone from the sanctuary drive him there, saying he'd be fine taking a bus. It was an excuse to get away from the place, try to clear his head of the doubts and worry he had. But in the waiting room he saw the looks the other pregnant omegas gave him, as their alphas cooed over them. Yes, he was pregnant with no bonded alpha. It made him tetchy and anxious. He caught one omega looking him over; when their eyes met he glared until she looked away in embarrassment.

The whole waiting room experience made him tense and by the time he went into the Doctor's office he just wanted to be gone. The doctor said everything was fine, and John couldn't wait to get a copy of the report and get out of there. The refuge had given him an allowance to get a taxi, which was better than getting public transport back. By the time he made it back to the sanctuary he was tired and the last thing he wanted to see was Ms. Collins' saccharine smile waiting for him.

"John, can I speak to you?" she asked in tones dripping with concern and kindness.

Schooling his face carefully, John said, "Sure," and she beckoned him into her office.

He sat down on the other side of her desk, relieved to get the weight off his feet. He waited for her to start.

"Everything go ok at the doctor's?" she asked.

"Oh yes..." John replied.

"Did you get a copy of the scan?" Ms. Collins asked.

The envelope in his inside pocket held a copy of the scan. He hadn't even looked at it himself but considering all what he knew about the sanctuary now, he did not want to give it over to her. "Uh, no, sorry," he lied.

The older omega's brow crinkled in frown. "Oh, that's a shame. I'm sure the adoptive parents would like to see."

A lump caught in John's throat, "You've found adoptive parents?"

She nodded. "Yes, we think they'd be a most wonderful match." She opened a manila folder. "Two betas, doctors..." She looked up expecting John to be pleased by that detail. "Infertile, been looking to adopt for 5 years, looking to provide a baby with a loving home."

"Oh that's..." John looked for the right word. "Great," he said with no enthusiasm.

Ms. Collins was watching him carefully. "Yes, isn't it just? We just need you to sign the papers so we can get the adoption process started already."

"Sign? Already?" John clenched his teeth.

"Yes, these things take time," Ms. Collins warned him, and handing the manila folder over to John.

John opened it and started scanning the document. In the end he gave up, and closed it. "I'm sorry, I'm really tired from the doctor's. Do you mind if I take these to read? Then I'll get them back to you."

Her smile did not falter but John was sure he could see a look of suspicion in there. "Of course not, dear."

"Of course I'm going to sign. I just want to read it all carefully." John tried to disabuse her of any doubts she might have.

She came around her desk and touched his hand. "Of course, it's a big decision. You take all the time you need."

Ms. Collins' touch made his skin crawl "I'll just go and rest now," he said pushing himself up out the chair and reluctantly letting her help him up. Clasping the manila folder he went up to his room and discarded it on the bedside table, not even looking at it. He carefully removed the brown envelope from his jacket pocket. He had no intention of handing his baby over to these people, but he was still going to give her up for adoption, wasn't he? He shouldn't even be looking at this picture...in the end he laid it on top of the folder, and covered his eyes to get some sleep.

oOo

John must have fallen into a doze, he had no idea for how long, but the door slamming made him jolt awake and he uncovered his eyes to see where the noise had come from. It was Sherlock, standing with his back to the door. "Where were you?" he demanded.

Oh Jesus, this is just what he needed. "I went to the doctor's," John tried to explain as he tried to get his feet down off the bed. He wasn't sure where his slippers were though.

"But you should have been back before lunch, and you weren't at lunch." Sherlock told him.

John checked the clock, it was 3pm already. "I must have slept through it." He couldn't see his slippers, and he felt like a beach ball rolling around to try and get a better look around the room.

Sherlock still didn't look happy. "Why didn't you find me after you came back?"

"Because I was tired!" John snapped, becoming irritable. "Can you see my slippers?"

Sherlock ignored the question. "I heard you had been seen going into Ms. Collins' office. You should have found me. you know this is a dangerous place."

"Yeah I know that! But she wanted to talk about the adoption. I couldn't exactly say no." John was in no mood to deal with Sherlock. "Now find my fucking slippers."

Slightly cowed by John's tone, Sherlock silently dropped to his knees at the side of the bed. He pulled out John's slippers from under it and left them in front of John. "How did the doctor's appointment go?" he asked in a softer voice.

John sighed. "Everything is fine, but it was awful all the same."

Sherlock's eyes went to the envelope. "You've not looked at the picture," he deduced.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, if I have to give her away anyway," John said.

"You're still definitely giving her up?" Sherlock asked in surprise.

"Of course. Despite the whole mess with this refuge it doesn't change the fact I'm an unbonded omega. If I raised her, there would still be that stigma following her around the rest of her life," John sighed, finding the green slippers with his feet.

Sherlock didn't say anything, instead picking up the envelope, opening it without asking and looked at the scan. "You would be a good father though."

"Oh Sherlock..." John rubbed his brow, "You've really got to keep your hormones under control. First you come barging in here like you care, now you're getting all dewy eyed at the thought of me and a baby. You may be on suppressants but your alpha hormones are running rife."

Sherlock's shoulders tensed. "That's ridiculous. I am not affected by my hormones. I am a logical man who deduces from the evidence presented to him."

"You should stop being near me Sherlock," John said seriously. "You don't want to imprint and be stuck with a useless omega."

"If I'm not near you then how can I make sure you're ok?" Sherlock said quietly, fingers brushing gently over the glossy black and white ultra sound photo. "And you're not a useless omega..."

John sighed and rested his hand on top of his stomach, "You're just confused..."

Sherlock placed a hand atop his and John looked up to meet those silver-grey eyes. "I told you, I am not some brainless alpha led by hormones and instinctual drives..."

John was about to refute that when he noticed Sherlock's lips getting closer, until they had closed the gap, pressing against his own. John's own ability for logic and reason seemed to abandon him at this moment. He should have told Sherlock to keep away, that this was just a disaster. But those lips touched his own so sweet and gently, it made his heart skip a beat. Yes this is what he wanted, he wanted someone there to protect him and his baby.

Guiltily he kissed back, running his tongue over Sherlock's bottom lip as he felt the detective's hand glide over his large stomach, in a gentle and tender touch he would have never have imagined from Sherlock. It's all hormones, he told himself, nature's last ditch effort at getting a mate for him and his baby. This couldn't work out, not in the real world.

No matter how good it felt to have Sherlock touching him, he knew it wasn't right. John pulled away, "No Sherlock, you can't offer me this."

Annoyance flared up in the alpha. "You think I am insincere?"

"No, no..." John tried to let the other man down gently. "I just think you'd never have considered this if we had not spent so much time together already."

Sherlock looked down at the picture still grasped in his fingers. "I cannot deny I never even considered bonding before I got to know you. But I never met someone who seemed able to bear my...personality."

John took the picture from Sherlock's fingers, looking at it for the first time. "I'm sure you'll meet someone better than me, who doesn't have..." he searched for the right word. "Baggage." Immediately he felt guilty for using that word as he looked at the grainy photo. It was as indistinct as any scan as he'd seen before but it broke his heart already that he'd have to give her up.

As if knowing what he was thinking, Sherlock said, "You wouldn't have to have her adopted if you came to live with me."

The only way John could deal with that offer was with anger. "Don't say stuff you don't mean." Before Sherlock could protest, John shoved the photo back into the envelope and stood up to put distance between them.

Back against the door he crossed his arms. "How far are you in this investigation?" He asked in brusque, businesslike tones.

Sherlock kept a steady gaze on him, reading every minuscule tell in his body language. "I have informed Ms. Collins of my intentions not to go through with the adoption."

John nodded, "Right. How did she take it?"

Sherlock tilted his head. "She was not surprised. She believes I'd be a reckless and unfit father...I believe she will be make arrangements for me to disappear once it is clear I will not change my mind."

"Well, that's good. This investigation can be over and we can move on with our lives." John tried to sound relieved about that but he couldn't hide his worry over Sherlock. "Just don't do anything stupid. I'm not exactly in the best of conditions to come rescue you right now."

Sherlock got up off the bed and got as close to John as he could against the door. "It will be over soon," he said softly, his eyes lingering on John's belly as his fingers gently brushed it.

John took one last deep breath trying to scent the alpha underneath that neutralising body soap but Sherlock had stepped back to gently push John out of the way so he could slip out the door. This wasn't fair, he was just trying to do what was best for his baby without relying on the dirty tricks his biology was trying to play on him.

oOo

John hadn't seen Sherlock since the previous day, and he thought it was for the best that they don't see each other. He tried to distract himself with reading over the adoption papers. He told himself even if he signed them they weren't binding, if presumably Sherlock managed to solve this case. But something made him not want to sign, maybe the dull ache in his chest.

He was trying to keep his mind off everything by resting in his room, when a staff member poked their head in and asked him to go see Ms. Collins. It was probably about nagging him to get those forms filled. He took the folder he'd probably read a dozen times in the past day but he hesitated before turning the door handle and went to his duffle bag. He found the illegal army issue Browning hidden in the bottom and was so glad they hadn't checked his stuff when he came in. Loading it and checking the safety, he tucked it in the back of his waistband, making sure the bulk of his oversized jumper covered it. He wasn't taking a chance with these people.

Slowly, he made his way downstairs and knocked on the private office. When he opened the door he was surprised to see Sherlock sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Ah John," Ms. Collins greeted him, indicating to him to sit in the chair next to Sherlock.

John did not miss the flash of surprise in the detective's face either. "What is he doing here?" Sherlock asked, with more than a little annoyance in his voice.

"Oh, I just thought we should all have a chat," Ms. Collins said, helping John to sit down before going to make her customary cups of herbal tea and setting them down in front of them.

The manager of the omega refuge asked gently, "Now John, has Sherlock told you he's not going through with the adoption?"

Now this wasn't what John was expecting to be asked. "Um well..." he glanced at Sherlock trying to figure out what to say. "No, he hasn't."

Sherlock glared at her. "My decision has nothing to do with John."

Her eyes closed momentarily at that. "Oh really? It's just I've noticed your reluctance too, in furthering the adoption process."

"I've not changed my mind," John tried to insist.

"We've had this before you know, two unbonded omegas getting closer, thinking they can raise their babies together." Ms. Collins' face was a picture of understanding.

"Are you listening to me? John has not influenced me at all in this. I just want to raise my baby by myself."

Ms. Collins looked at Sherlock incredulously, "You Sherlock? A drug addict just out of rehab raising a baby? Are you sure about that?"

Sherlock's eyes flickered momentarily to John before trying to sit firm in his chair. "Yes. I don't care what society thinks of me. I will do my best for my baby." He directed his comment at her, however John couldn't help but think Sherlock was trying to convince him more.

"Sherlock dear," she said in a patronising tone "If you wanted to do your best for your baby, you would have it adopted wouldn't you? Why you don't even know the sex of your baby do you? Two loving parents could provide the best start. Isn't that right John?"

Oh this is what John was supposed to do, back her up to convince his friend to give his baby up for adoption. "Yes...that's right Sherlock." But he didn't sound convinced himself. In fact, it only caused a hard lump to gather in his throat, and he reached for the tea to try and chase it away. The tea tasted as bitter as he felt.

"I do not appreciate you involving John in this!" Sherlock roared. He looked like he wanted to storm out but was reluctant to leave John alone.

"Now keep calm," Ms. Collins told him. "Drink some tea, it's not good for the baby you getting upset. We can discuss this calmly." John felt himself getting really drowsy. He put it down to being heavily pregnant and under stress.

Sherlock looked disgruntled and snatched the tea cup from the table. He brought it to his lips but stopped, peering into the dark brown liquid. "Sugar for that?" Ms. Collin's asked, standing to go side where she kept a bowl of sugar cubes.

Sherlock brought the tea cup to his lips, darting his tongue out to taste it like a snake. His eyes widened and he threw the cup down to the floor. "John! Don't drink it!"

John noticed then how sluggish his body felt, and he looked down at the tea cup in his lap. There was something in the bottom of it. He thought it had been tea leaves but no, it looked crystalline, and there had been no sugar in it.

A cry from Sherlock made him look up, to see Ms. Collins standing behind him with a syringe in his neck. "Shush, don't struggle Sherlock. You'll hurt your baby," she hushed into his ear.

Realising everything was going very wrong, John tried to reach around into the small of his back for his gun. The movement only knocked his tea onto the floor, and he didn't have the strength to push himself up.

"That goes for you too, John. We'll have that baby out of you in no time," Ms. Collins said through his hazy vision, before everything went dark.

_Author's notes: Thanks to those that R&R! Everyone was pretty much on the money over the `mystery`! ;D Thank you to my betas for making this readable!_


	3. Loss

**Omega Refuge**

**Chapter 3 - Loss**

_BBC Sherlock fanfiction, no copyright infringement intended._

_Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson_

_Warnings: Slash, Omegaverse, Angst_

John felt dizzy and sick as consciousness slowly came to him. He also felt cold, and realised he was on a hard floor. He opened his eyes to see bright overhead spotlights blurring his vision further. He tried to sit up, trying to remember what happened, where he was, how he got here. He just remembered being in Ms. Collins' office, and Sherlock...Sherlock! He tried to sit up and get a better bearing of where he was. He was in a cell, like you'd keep an animal. Through the bars he could see a further row of cells, with a few omegas in various stages of pregnancy. They all looked worn out and broken, barely able to lift their heads up.

So it was a breeding ring, and now John was in the middle of it. His hand fumbled behind him to the small of his back where his Browning had been...and it was gone.

"Where are we?" he called out, his voice groggy with the sedative still.

None of the other omegas looked at him, they just kept their heads down.

"Please, has there been anyone else here? Tall man with dark..."

But a young omega girl with greasy brown hair sitting in a cell opposite snapped at him, "Shut up, you'll get us in trouble!"

John slammed the bar near him in frustration, before crawling over to the door and testing the lock. It wouldn't budge. He slid back down to the floor, exhausted already. Succumbing to the sedative again, he closed his eyes trying to figure out what to do.

It could have been two, or even three hours later, when some noise from the far end of the room caught his attention and John pushed himself up on his hands to see what was happening. The main door unlocked, and two armed men came in dragging one unconscious, dark-haired detective. He was now sans his pregnancy disguise, which had obviously been discovered after closer inspection.

John restrained himself from shouting out Sherlock's name, and watched helplessly as the alpha was thrown into the cell next to him. He watched the guards carefully, as they locked the cell and excited the holding room.

As soon as the door swung closed John scrambled over to the side Sherlock was on. "Sherlock!" he said in a loud whisper. The detective lay still eyelids flickering, obviously fighting the effects of the sedative and a beating. His lip was cut and cheek swollen, but John needed the other man awake now. "Sherlock!" he said more loudly, and seeing a cup of water in his cell picked it up to throw it through the bars onto the other man.

Sherlock spluttered as he was splashed with the cold water, rolling onto his side gasping. "Wake up!" John tried again.

Blinking water away, Sherlock's eyes focused on John from the floor. "John?"

"You need to wake up now! What happened to you? Do you remember anything?"

Sherlock's brow wrinkled as he struggled to think. "They were less than pleased I am not a fertile omega." He tried to sit up, still a bit woozy and clutching his head. "I believe we are in a basement complex of some sort." Sherlock focused his eyes again on John. "Are you and the baby ok?"

"We're fine, for now. But I really need you to focus on thinking of a way out of here." John reached his hand through the bars, so he could give the other man's hand a squeeze. "Look around you, this is a breeding ring. I really doubt they have much need for an alpha so I don't know how long they're going to keep you here." Or alive for that matter.

Sherlock's fingers momentarily curled against John's, before nodding, "agreed." He let go to check the lock of the cell, tugging on it unsuccessfully. "If I had something, I could pick the lock..."

However, the detective was interrupted by the double doors swinging open again. In came the two guards, followed by Ms. Collins talking on a mobile phone.

The eyes of all the other omegas in the room followed the small group apprehensively but they strode past to stand in front of John's cell.

"Yes," Ms. Collins said to the person on the phone. "I'll deal with it." She hung up the phone and slipped it into her jacket pocket, before regarding John and Sherlock like a stern headmistress.

"So we have an alpha," she glared at Sherlock. "Alphas are not allowed in my refuge, Mr. Holmes."

"I am investigating independently. John has nothing to do with this," Sherlock told her.

"How am I supposed to believe that, what with you two always conspiring and when he comes to a meeting with this?" The older woman reached into her blazer pocket to withdraw John's Sig and waved it around for emphasis. "This is also not allowed in my refuge, Dr. Watson."

Anger bubbled up in John, "Refuge? Baby farm more like."

Ms. Collins' brow furrowed. "Do not use such ugly words John. I provide a service, helping those who so desperately want to love and care for beautiful babies. But your presence has put us in a difficult situation. We would prefer to wait for things to happen naturally but I'm afraid we need to take the risk and get that baby out of you now."

John shook his head, horror running through him like ice water. "No. It's too early."

"Whose fault is that? We'll do our best to look after her. You're too old to be kept for breeding anyway," Ms. Collins said coldly.

The bars in Sherlock's cage rattled as he threw himself against them. "Please," the alpha pleaded. "Don't do this."

Ms. Collins cooed, "oh isn't that sweet? those alpha hormones are getting him all worked up. Too bad more alphas don't hang around long enough to let their paternal instincts kick in. Take him," she told the guards.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, and the alpha reached through to hold his hands desperately. He was frightened what was going to happen to his baby, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"John!" Sherlock squeezed tightly onto his hands as the two guards took him by the arms and pulled him towards the cage door, until their hands finally lost grip.

John struggled and fought against them, refusing to be dragged towards the main doors. Ms. Collins followed behind them, hands laced behind her back. "John," she said calmly, "That baby is coming out, one way or another."

John could hear the entire cages rattling, as Sherlock threw himself into the bars in vain and he was dragged through the doors.

oOo

Sherlock had spent the past hour going over every inch of his cell, running his fingers over ever crack and crevice, trying to find some weak spot. Every possible fissure and join of the iron bars scraped and pulled looking for any give or weak point. But his entrapment was frustratingly simple and solid. There was nothing he could find to exploit. Eventually frustration had gotten the better of him, and he had attempted to shoulder the door hoping the old lock would give, but it held firm. He had been wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown when he'd gone to meet Ms. Collins; he really had nothing on his person to help his situation.

One last shove into the lock of the door and he slid down, shoulder bruised and throbbing. All he could think about was John, and how he'd failed to protect him through his own self-assured arrogance. He hadn't imagined his association with the omega would be quite so disastrous, thinking John would be passed over as an unknowing victim of this scheme.

His emotions were getting the better of him, which was not like him at all. Maybe John was right and the pheromones were affecting him. Either way he'd let a great injustice unwittingly unfold. He hadn't wanted John involved, but he had wanted John to bear witness to his great detective skills, be impressed and then what?

Now John was...he couldn't think about that, and he let his head bang against the bars, causing the whole cage to rattle.

"Is he your mate?" a mousy voice asked.

Sherlock blinked heavily, trying to clear his swimming vision and peered through the bars to the cages opposite. A girl, thin and worn with a bulging belly, maybe 8 months pregnant, watched him with tired brown eyes.

"No," Sherlock replied truthfully.

She shuffled up to the bars closest to him, they were maybe two meters away. "You act like he is your mate. Is it your baby?"

Sherlock shook his head, "I met him six weeks ago. Do you know where they've taken him?"

She rolled her shoulders forward in a shrug. "There's a delivery room upstairs they take you when you have your baby, probably there. This is my 3rd."

"What's your name?" Sherlock asked.

"Molly. Molly Hopper," the girl explained biting her lip.

"Ah...yes." Sherlock closed his eyes momentarily, recalling the details. "You've been missing for two years."

The girl looked surprised. "You know me?"

"I was investigating this ring. I noted you as a suspicious disappearance. Rumours have it that you had emigrated to Canada to start a new life." So many parts of this mystery coming together now, only too late.

"You're looking for us?" Molly asked, and the eyes of all the other omegas in the holding cages were on him now too.

"I was...but things did not go so smoothly," Sherlock said in defeat.

The girl bit her lip again in a nervous gesture. "You said something about picking the lock?"

"I don't have anything to pick the lock," the alpha explained.

"Will a hair pin do?"

Sherlock sat up straighter, resting his face against the bars. "Yes."

Molly ran her fingers through her unwashed hair. "Here," she said, throwing it across the gap between them. The almost invisible piece of metal sailed through the air and the bars, tumbling onto the floor beside them.

Sherlock scrabbled for it, and prised open the thin metal with his fingers to bend it into a suitable implement. The lock, while old and solid, was of a simple design. It took him 20 minutes to feel along for all the tumblers and painstakingly pressed them home. With the last tumbler in place, he twisted the other end into the lock and, with as much force as he could put into the wire, the lock clicked open.

The girl opposite him gasped, "Oh you done it!"

"I did," Sherlock said, pushing the door open carefully, as if any squeak would alert their captors. He stood up carefully, bones aching as he was finally able to stand to his full height. He went to the bars of Molly's cell, bending down to look into her hopeful face. "Thank you Molly Hooper. I will be back for you all, but I need to go find John."

She pulled herself up onto her knees to look imploringly into Sherlock's face. "Please," she pleaded. "Please come back."

"I will," he told her again, swallowing hard before leaving the holding room to go find John.

oOo

The lower levels of the complex were pretty deserted. He crept around the corners and came to a monitoring room, with banks of TV screens hooked up to cameras covering the holding rooms and corridors. There were two holding rooms with maybe 20 omegas being held in cages. He saw why when he looked at one monitor and the fuzzy grey images of the upper floor. A few guards hung around the entrances. There were a few people dressed in white coats attending to someone on a gurney. His stomach clenched in both hope and fear that it was John, but it was difficult to make out.

There was a mobile phone on the side and Sherlock picked it up, dialling 999. His eyes scanned all the monitors, estimating how many people were there, as he tried to tell the woman on the end of the line everything he knew. Where was he? He scrabbled around papers and memos looking for clues for the location of the storage warehouse, which he decided was likely on an abandoned farm. He hung up, eyes still on the monitor. He could just wait for the police to arrive, but he couldn't leave John there.

Sherlock spied some medical scrubs and changed into them, covering his hair with a cap and his face with a surgical mask. Sherlock had always believed the best disguises were those that hid you in plain sight. With 20 people coming and going from a larger network, he'd take the chance that someone unknown wouldn't be immediately suspicious.

The detective back-tracked around the corridors, until he was able to find a stairway

Through a process of elimination and deduction, Sherlock worked his way around the corridors with the air of someone who belonged and had purpose, even passing a few people who never gave him a second glance. Finally, he came to a set of doors with windows and he peered through. Excellent, there was now only one medical personnel.

Bold as brass he pushed through and shouted: "Quickly, Collins says there's a problem!"

The woman in the surgical scrubs jumped at Sherlock's entrance. "But hasn't she gone to make the drop off?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear? there has been a problem and she's back! Go now, I'm to deal with the omega."

The woman looked hesitant but nodded and left the medical bay, leaving Sherlock with the figure on the gurney. He confirmed it was John, and rushed over to check. "John," He said in a whisper, checking for the obvious. The omega's eyes were closed and he looked worn out and tired, and his stomach now reasonably flat. No baby. His wrists were restrained to the bed in leather cuffs used in hospitals, and an IV line was taped to his forearm and lead to an empty IV bag that read OXYTOCIN. "John." He swallowed, concerned about the lack of movement from the other man and put his hand up to his cheek.

John jerked awake, pulling on the restraints and looked up at Sherlock with a look of rage and loathing.

"It's me, John," Sherlock whispered pulling off his mask to show his face. "Are you ok?"

"They took her," John's voice struggled not to crack and he pulled on the cuffs again. He'd obviously done that a lot over the past few hours, his wrists were red and sore where the leather had cut into his skin.

Sherlock wished he had more information to give John but at the moment they needed to focus on getting out. "We'll find her," he told John, and released the restraints. "Can you walk?"

John tried to sit up. "I guess so." But Sherlock didn't like the way he looked. "I need to find her," he muttered, but he looked tired and disorientated.

"We will," Sherlock tried to reassure him, as he found some surgical gowns to wrap around John's shoulders. He didn't know what to do with John, he wasn't sure how far they could run like this, and only hoped the police would arrive soon. He just needed to get John somewhere safer. Helping the omega off the gurney and out of the medical bay, Sherlock went back to a supply room and cleared a space behind some boxes. "John, we'll wait here."

John looked reluctant, but he didn't have any choice but to crumple down there. "I didn't hear her cry when they took her," he told the detective, covering his face.

Sherlock squeezed his body next to John's in the small space and held him to his chest. He hadn't seen any trace of her on the monitors, and he suspected that Collins had already taken John's baby to be passed onto the adoptive parents. "I'm sorry," he apologised, for getting John involved and for being too late. "We'll find her." He tried to reassure John, while he couldn't ignore the sense of loss and failure growing within him. He couldn't imagine how John felt.

Sherlock felt paralysed and useless as he held John as he heard sirens and a commotion in the corridors.

oOo

The police arrival had been rather anti climatic. Everyone had been caught off guard when the squad cars shown up. They had surrendered quickly, not even time to draw their weapons let alone a shoot-out with hostage negotiations. John barely registered any of it; he felt physically and emotionally wrecked along with the lingering effects of another sedative. All he could think about was his baby, he'd not had a chance to glimpse her before they whisked her away. The sense of loss was indescribable. It felt like a part of him had been ripped out. All he wanted was to hold his baby and protect her from these people. That was what he was supposed to do.

Then Sherlock came, and John just allowed him to hide him away and hold him in his arms. He wanted to do more, he wanted to start tearing the place up to find her.

But the police burst in and Sherlock stood, hands up, explaining he was the detective who had called them. John stayed on the floor resting his head on Sherlock's knees, barely able to lift his head up.

The ambulance crew arrived. He felt Sherlock helping him up and he leaned into the familiar warm body. There was a bit of a heated discussion about John being taken to hospital and Sherlock helping the police. An orange blanket was thrown around John and he crawled up onto the stretcher to let sleep take him again.

oOo

The police were morons, that was clear to Sherlock. He repeated Lestrade's name over and over but the local constabulary regarded him with suspicion, an alpha somehow caught in the middle of a breeding ring. It was taking too long. he had to go to John. Something back in his mind was noisy and insistent that he go find him and do whatever he could to make it better. Finally Lestrade did arrive, with a change of clothes and an explanation that he did know Sherlock and they did work together.

It was maybe two hours before he was able to leave the crime scene and get a taxi to the local hospital. It didn't take long to track down John, who was in a private room. The detective swallowed when he finally saw the omega curled up on his side and looking so small.

"John," He said in a soft voice, going to his side and running his hand along his arm. The contact gave him a feeling akin to relief and he bent down to look into the other man's face when his eyes opened.

"Did you find her?" John asked.

The detective had to shake his head. Seeing the pain in John's face, and knowing he could do nothing to relieve it, caused his own gut to clench.

John took in a shuddering breath. Fresh tears started to roll down his face and drip onto the already wet pillow. "I don't know if she's alive," he admitted to Sherlock. "She's early; there could be complications but they just took her away from me..."

Sherlock was at a loss for words or ways to comfort John. He'd failed him in so many ways. "I'll find her John," he promised. "We will find her and make sure she's safe."

The doctor wiped his eyes in frustration, as if annoyed at himself for letting emotion get to him. "I didn't know it was going to feel this bad, when she was taken away."

Sherlock had to admit the same; he never thought he'd feel John's pain so much. "It wasn't meant to be like this. You'll get her back," he tried to reassure John. Drawing himself up more solidly he asked, "what's her name?"

John looked at him confused. "What?"

"You want to find her and make sure no harm ever comes to her again, don't you?" Sherlock would not let any harm come to either of them. "I won't let you give her up for adoption now, anyway, under any misplaced sense of duty. Money, lodgings, I'll give you whatever will enable you to look after her. I guess you were right about those hormones." He wasn't just talking about John, he could feel it himself; the loss and the failure to protect them gnawed at somewhere deep inside he never knew he had. It made no logical sense. They were not even bonded and he had no genetic connection to John's child. However, there was nothing he wanted to see more than John holding his daughter. "So you should pick a name for her."

"I never even thought about a name," John looked away with a frown. "I thought it'd make me too attached and I had no right to choose one."

"You have every right to, you are going to be her father." That was that. Sherlock's hand came to cup John's face to make the omega look up him. "Choose a name for your daughter so we know who we're looking for."

John's azure eyes focused on Sherlock again, and they were caught like that for a moment as the doctor took a deep tired breath. "Lily. My mother's name."

"Lily Watson. Good." Sherlock nodded.

"Do you really think we can find her?"

Sherlock's fingers twisted into the thin fabric of the hospital gown at the collar. "I am the world's only consulting detective. I give you my word that we will find her."

John nodded, and some of his strength seemed to come back. "Ok, we will find her." He regained some of that soldier's hardness, and when he looked back up at Sherlock there was a cold determination. "We will find her and then I will kill those responsible for taking her."

Sherlock nodded in agreement.


	4. Search

**Omega Refuge**

**Chapter 4 - Search**

_BBC Sherlock fanfiction, no copyright infringement intended._

_Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson_

_Warnings: Slash, Omegaverse, Angst_

John packed his few things from the hospital room, his body still stiff and tender from the induced labour and two days' bed rest he'd had to endure. He stared out of the hospital window to watch the people going to and from the hospital; he had to swallow down a bitter lump as he spotted a couple pushing a baby along in a pram.

The door opening behind him made him spin to see Sherlock.

His mouth opened in the question he asked every time he saw Sherlock or a member of the police. Any news? Have you found her? But the words died in his throat as Sherlock just averted his eyes and shook his head in regret.

John couldn't say anything else; he just turned back to his bag and did up the zip with a finality.

"Are you being discharged?" Sherlock asked from somewhere behind him.

"Yes," John let his hand curl around the nylon strap, not daring to turn back to the detective and let him see the turmoil in his face. Being emotional wasn't going to help him find her; being a shivering crying wreck wasn't going to help him see Lily again.

There was an awkward silence that passed as neither man knew what to say. It was Sherlock that broke it with more practical matters. "The police are allowing me access to the evidence they uncovered," Sherlock told him.

"Oh?" John breathed through his nose and turned to look at Sherlock finally, trying to draw his shoulders back to his full height.

Sherlock was watching him carefully, undoubtedly taking in every detail. "I've had a quick perusal of the evidence, but I need a more thorough look before we start tracking down leads."

John frowned a bit in confusion. "We?" he asked.

The detective reflected his own look of confusion."Do you not wish to participate in the investigation?"

John was taken aback by the question. He'd not assumed that Sherlock would want him to work directly on the case; after all he was an omega, one that had even started breeding. Omegas just didn't work after they started having babies. They were considered too emotional, too fragile, especially where their children were concerned. He'd suspected that Sherlock had started to imprint on him, bringing out his more alpha qualities that told him to protect John from harm's way. But here he was asking him to get involved in tracking a breeding ring?

Sherlock, of course seemed to read everything going through John's mind. "I need an assistant," he explained, "As a doctor who has been to war, and who has direct experience with the ring we are tracking, I can think of no better person for the job." The detective finally looked away as if the next part was going to cause him some kind of embarrassment he was trying to hide. "Besides, no one else seems to be able to bear my...unorthodox methods."

John took that in. Sherlock wanted him to work with him as a real partner. He'd never imagined he meant so literally, he'd just imagined one day Sherlock would turn up with news of his daughter. He wanted to do this so badly though; he needed to do this, it already consumed his every waking moment. "Ok," the doctor said carefully.

Sherlock himself stood straighter, the animation in his body had indicating that he was pleased and excited. "Good," Sherlock said, reaching into one of the deep pockets of his coat, and withdrawing the SIG. "This is yours I believe." He held out the black metal grip towards John.

"Jesus. Where did you get that?" John closed the gap between them to grab the gun away and check the safety and whether it was loaded. The safety was on but it was loaded.

The detective shrugged. "It was in the evidence room with the other weapons that had been recovered by the raid on the ring. I merely reclaimed it; honestly, it's not as if the local police will even notice," he said with some distain.

John quickly shoved it away into the small of his back before anyone had the chance to walk in and see him holding a loaded gun. "You are mad," he informed the other man.

"If this breeding ring proves as organised as it appears to be, you may need to use it," Sherlock warned. "This investigation could prove dangerous if we are to break the higher levels of the organisation."

Sherlock was waiting for an answer, as if he was giving John a final out of this fledgling partnership. John really didn't need to think about it at all. "When do we start?" he asked.

John was met with a barely restrained smirk from the other man. "Immediately."

oOo

Since John had been discharged, they'd booked themselves into a local B&B but had spent nearly every hour at the police station, boxes of evidence spread out and Sherlock on his laptop sifting wordlessly through the masses of data. It was mind-numbing and tedious, tracking records and details from suppliers and distributors, but all they'd managed to find was dummy accounts and businesses, nothing that led to anything tangible.

John felt frustrated, his eyes hurting as he squinted at a medical supplier's invoice. He was desperate to find anything to see where the babies had been going, and there had been quite a few babies. By their estimates there had been at least 73 babies born to 32 omegas in the past three years, which is as long as they estimated this part of the breeding ring had been operational.

Eight omegas had been taken from the refuge, carefully picked because they were young and had been estranged from their families and friends, easily forgotten. Like John had been really; Harry hadn't called him since he had left, and he was sure that indicated the relief that he'd packed himself off to a refuge to quietly give away his baby and save her the embarrassment of having an unbonded omega brother with an illegitimate child. Had she even heard what had happened to him? If she had, it still hadn't been enough to contact him.

John felt his energy lagging, and he glanced across from Sherlock who seemed to have no such problems. The evidence room was filled with the light clicking sounds of the mouse as Sherlock scrolled through endless documents and data.

"Have you found anything?" John asked, watching the detective.

"No," the other man replied.

John found himself running his fingers through his hair in frustration, before moving the invoice over to a done pile. "The medical suppliers were paid with a dummy company again," he informed Sherlock.

The detective didn't say anything as he clicked on, and John stood to move his joints and work some of the tension out of his shoulders. He hadn't expected this to be easy or quick but he wanted some action, something to take his frustration and anger out on. Looking through endless paper work wasn't distracting him from the fact his daughter was missing, maybe even dead.

Sherlock's eyes flicked up to John. "You should go get something to eat."

John didn't feel like eating, even though he was already tired. He'd physically and mentally pushed himself through the past few days, and getting a breather would probably a good idea if he could ignore the guilt that he should be spending every moment looking for her.

As if sensing his hesitation, Sherlock added, "I could do with food too. I noticed a good take-away down the road."

All Sherlock had eaten in the few days they'd been at the police station were a few dry sandwiches from the station canteen. "How can you know it's good?" John asked.

"All the empty take away boxes in the bin of the police staff room," Sherlock told him. "I recommend the chicken korma and mutton biriyani."

Even though he'd never tried them, and hadn't exactly said he'd been eating them. The food was obviously for John's benefit. "Anything else you want?" he asked.

"Twenty Marlboro Gold."

John gave him a look of disapproval. Sherlock seemed oblivious to it and reached into his pocket to pull out a twenty. "Corner shop should still be open," he was informed, and John wordlessly snatched the money, stuffing it into his pocket.

He was about to leave when the door opened. A tall man with grey hair, wearing a crumpled rain coat, came in. "Sherlock," he began, before noticing John behind a filing cabinet. It took him a few seconds to process John before he asked the detective. "Isn't that one of the omega witnesses? What is he doing here?"

"Ah Lestrade," Sherlock greeted him coolly, "So glad you could finally make it back down here."

"This isn't my patch. I'm not exactly welcome, just be thankful I got you access to their evidence. You didn't answer the question, is this the witness?"

Sherlock seemed unphased. "He is also my assistant. You seem to forget that I am also a witness in this case, yet have no problems with me investigating."

Lestrade huffed, giving John the once-over before directing his attention back to Sherlock. "He's rather more involved in the case than you, wouldn't you say?"

John knew Lestrade was an alpha already, it was so typical. As soon as anyone knew he was an omega, they were in a rush to pack him in cotton wool. John sighed. "I'll be back soon." He really didn't want to hear anymore of Lestrade's protests. He passed the police officer by the doorway, stopping right in front of him as they passed. "I'm not getting kicked off this investigation." he had to look up at Lestrade to meet his eyes, but he didn't waver at all. "For personal reasons," he said pointedly, brushing by the policeman.

No one said anything as he left the evidence room, and Lestrade closed the door behind him to allow him and Sherlock some privacy. "You? An assistant?" Lestrade said suspiciously.

Sherlock gestured to the boxes they had gathered around them, on the desks and the floor. "This is quite a time-consuming task, as you should be able to see."

"But, an omega of all people?" Lestrade asked incredulously.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the DI. "He has excellent skills and a unique perspective to this case," he countered.

Lestrade still didn't look convinced, "His baby has been kidnapped; you really think he should be working with you?"

"He has already assisted me invaluably in this case," Sherlock replied nonchalantly and went back to typing into his laptop, keys clacking loudly. He could feel Lestrade's eyes on him, trying to read him.

"You're soft on him, aren't you?"

Sherlock scowled and shot Lestrade a look that could freeze the sun. "Really, how long have you known me Lestrade?"

"Long enough to know you NEVER work with anyone. You can't stand anyone and no-one can stand you," the DI told him.

"I have never found anyone worthy enough to act as an assistant, that is all." Sherlock jutted out his chin in defiance and disgust at the very suggestion that his motives were anything other than business. Well, maybe his motives were not entirely business, but John and his relationship had become nothing but business since they'd started working together. John had never mentioned anything that had happened in the refuge, and he'd seemed to intentionally stone wall in on himself. It was as if any shared moments been brushed away as nothing more than the intensity of the situation and hormones, which they were now free from. Also, Sherlock would never try anything with John at the moment, the timing was terrible. The best thing he could possibly do was reunite John with Lily, and then prove he was a suitable partner to help John raise her too. That way he could keep the doctor in his life.

Lestrade still didn't look convinced though. "You spent a lot of time with him while you were undercover, right?"

It was true, but Sherlock scoffed at what Lestrade was insinuating. "Oh, as if I'd had an interest in bonding and breeding, and a coincidental proximity to an omega with child has changed that," Sherlock mocked. It was not a lie, he had never had an interest in bonding, but he had an interest in John. Something about John made him tingle in unknown depths. He just knew that an omega who had defied all expectations of him to go to medical school, and even enter the army to go to a war zone, was fascinating. John was interesting, and that made John wonderful. Bonding was irrelevant; he just wanted John in his life and this was the best way to do it. However, this was a conclusion he'd never dare to express, especially to Lestrade. "This is for the case, and nothing more," he insisted. "I want to solve it, and it is proving much more intricate than a small-time breeding ring. Finding a kidnapped child along the way will no doubt be useful to uncovering the higher-up perpetrators in this scheme."

"Right," Lestrade said with a sigh. "Well, I was rather hoping you were looking to bond with him. Might make you seem more bloody human after all."

A snort came from Sherlock. "Don't be mistaken. I am only here for the work, not for reasons as trite as these hormones that seem to dominate the actions and motivations of everyone else." He waved the detective inspector off, as if he had interfered with his work long enough.

Lestrade rubbed his face. "Nothing ever changes I guess. Show me what you have got so far. Is there anything I can do to help?"

They settled into talking about the case, going over what they had found so far.

John, meanwhile stood close to the door on the other side, listening to every word that had just passed between the other two men. He really should be relieved. Sherlock valued him as a colleague, and was a man obviously focused on his work. That was good for them, it really was. The refuge really had been some madness of the moment. Now, with a clear head Sherlock had reverted back to his true focus. It was too much to think about Sherlock as well as finding Lily.

John pulled his hand out of his pocket to see he'd scrunched up the twenty-pound note in his sweaty palm, making it damp, he tried to fold it up neater before putting it back in his pocket, before going to buy cigarettes for Sherlock and dinner for himself, some of which the detective might be tempted into eating.

oOo

It had been over a week of going back and forth between the station and their B&B when, after an overnight stint, Sherlock announced they should go back to rest in the early hours of the morning. John had agreed. He was running on empty after Sherlock had retired to his own room, John had stripped his clothes to crawl into bed, grateful that he was too tired to think about their progress and how Lily was doing.

After what felt like a few hours of dead sleep, John rolled over to open his eyes, to see Sherlock sitting in a chair by his bed, fully dressed with his coat on, looking ready to leave. "Is it morning already?" John groaned, pulling the covers up over him more securely. "You can go to the station. I'll catch you up once I'm dressed."

Sherlock had his fingertips pressed together gently in front of his face as he regarded John carefully. "We are not going to the police station today."

That woke John up, and he sat up to look over Sherlock more carefully. "Have you found something?" he asked.

"I uncovered all that I can from any of the records kept." The detective pursed his lips behind his fingers. It hadn't really been anything of any significance. As far as he could tell, nothing regarding where the babies were sent was kept on site at the breeding ring or the omega refuge. Collins herself had mysteriously disappeared after the raid, and none of the staff seemed aware of her whereabouts or of the deeper conspiracy they had been unknowingly working towards. He didn't want to voice that to John though. "Today we will go and interview a witness."

"Oh?" John asked. "Who?"

"Molly Hooper."

oOo

When John had realised that Molly had been one of the other omegas held in the breeding ring, he was filled with a certain nervousness. He himself had been held only briefly, but Sherlock had told him she had been there for more than two years?

Sherlock had ordered a taxi to a bedsit on the other side of town. From the newspapers it had been a bit of a scandal. The outpouring of public sympathy that omegas had been treated so badly, meant that social services had been in an unusual rush to house the omegas discovered. It was really fortunate for them. John followed the tall detective into the bedsit, after he'd announced to the owner he was here to see Molly Hooper, and they were directed up the stairs. John kept silent as Sherlock knocked briskly, entering when he heard a soft voice respond.

The detective had swooped in but suddenly stopped as if surprised, and when John peered around him he discovered why. He vaguely remembered a few of the omegas in the holding cells, last imagining them to be heavily pregnant. But Molly wasn't pregnant anymore. She was holding a new born baby.

John's face remained stony, as he wondered if this was what Lily would look like.

Sherlock seemed to get over his surprise quickly and regarded the woman sitting by the window, cooing happily to her baby. She looked up and her face brightened. "Sherlock! I'm so glad you came to see us!"

"Molly," Sherlock nodded in greeting. "This is my colleague, John Watson. We are here to ask you a few questions."

She looked between them, and her face fell as she recognised the smaller man. "Oh you're..." but she didn't finish her sentence, and worried her lip instead as she looked down at her baby.

"You had your baby," Sherlock stated in possibly the greatest leap of his detective skills in his career.

"Five days ago!" she said, unable to keep the excitement and joy from her voice. "I never got a chance to thank you, Sherlock! You said you'd save us and you did!" She leaned in closer, letting her nose rub against her baby's cheek.

Sherlock looked uncomfortable at accepting the gratitude. "I'm glad you look well, Molly." She gestured them to take a seat, and there was nowhere else but to perch on the bed.

"I'm going back to London in a few days, just waiting for a housing placement," Molly told them, rearranging the tiny baby in her arms. "And for saving me, I want to call this little one Sherlock."

Sherlock visibly blanched. "Please don't, there is no need."

Molly just smiled at him. "But I really want to. It's a lovely name and without you I'd never be able to keep this one." Her face fell slightly. "I wasn't able to keep the other two." She looked pointedly at John who had remained silent so far, giving a knowing look of sympathy.

Sherlock swallowed, trying to think of some way to discourage her. "I really didn't do much." Really, calling the baby after him because of misplaced sentiment seemed terrible. The child would no doubt blame him in years to come for being lumbered with such a name.

Molly tried to brighten a bit. "No, without you I'd still be stuck in that cell." She gave the detective a look that could only be described as adoring.

The situation was getting worse and worse for Sherlock, and he shifted on the bed. "Well, it's up to you."

The new mother grinned at him. "Little Sherly," she said softly at the baby, who seemed to be getting irritable and making noises of displeasure. Sherlock wanted to tell her that the baby was probably objecting to the nickname but held his tongue, not wanting to sour her mood towards him before he'd had time to question her.

"It's cute," John finally interjected, and Sherlock gave him a warning look.

"Just think it over before you sign anything legally binding," Sherlock said in small hope.

The baby settled down a bit as Molly jogged him. "Do you want to hold him?"

No, Sherlock really didn't want to hold him, but instead of waiting for an answer Molly stood and came over to him, carefully placing the baby in the detective's arms. Sherlock froze, but was conscious of making any loud, obvious objections. He was supposed to be proving to John that he would be very good around babies. He glanced at the man sitting beside him, who had an obviously strained smile, but looked bemused none the less and leaned over closer to look at the baby. John tutted at the baby, keeping it distracted as Sherlock concentrated on not moving at all, in fear of making the infant cry.

"He's adorable," John said, running his finger along the inside of the small baby's palm, making it hold onto his finger with its tiny fist; a reflex reaction, Sherlock noted.

"Yes, he's very-" Sherlock struggled to find the appropriate word. Pink? Squirmy? "-lovely," he settled on, hoping to please the doting mother. It appeared to work, for Molly settled down next to him to lean over and coo inarticulate sounds at her baby, leaning up against his arm.

Sherlock cleared his throat, trying to hand the baby back to her. She took him, but didn't move off the bed or change her position pressed up next to him.

"I want to ask you about your time in the breeding ring," Sherlock said shifting away from her.

"Oh." Molly kept her eyes focused on the baby as if the visual reminder of him was needed at this moment.

"Do you have any idea where the babies are sent?" Sherlock asked.

Molly shook her head. "No, they were just immediately taken away from us once we gave birth," she said sadly.

Sherlock ground his teeth in frustration. Those arrested at the breeding ring had all claimed to have no knowledge of where the babies were sent, claiming that Collins was the one who was brokering and arranging the illegal adoptions. They were all in some way connected to organised crime, and were keeping quiet about their affiliations and employers. They were going to prison anyway and being known as a grass would not serve for an easy prison life.

"Did you see the woman Collins there often?" Sherlock asked.

"The older woman that came in with you? She liked to visit when we were nearly due," Molly explained.

"Is there anything you ever heard her or anyone else talking about? Places, people?"

Molly hummed softly to herself, thinking it over. "Maidenhead," she said finally. "Sometimes people would talk about `Maidenhead being ready, ` or `A call from Maidenhead.` I never knew if they were talking about someone or a place though."

Sherlock looked at her seriously. "Maidenhead? You're quite sure it was Maidenhead?"

Molly nodded. "Yes."

Sherlock seemed to spring into action off the bed. "Come John," he demanded impatiently.

John stood after the taller man. "That means something to you?"

"Possibly. We need to investigate further," Sherlock said, pulling on his gloves and disappearing out the door, without a further goodbye to Molly.

John looked back from the now empty space where the other man had been to Molly, who looked rather stunned at the detective's sudden departure. "Um, thank you," he said to her, trying to make up for Sherlock's lack of social grace. "Thank you for your help."

"I just really hope you can find your baby," Molly told him, her brow creasing in sadness.

John finally looked into her eyes, and he couldn't keep the sorrow from his eyes any longer. He wouldn't begrudge Molly's happiness after such an horrific experience, but seeing her now just reminded him of the unfulfilled bond that ached within him and told him he should have done more to protect his own baby. "I do too," he told her. "Look after little Sherlock, will you?"

"Look after big Sherlock too," Molly said, shifting her baby to hold tightly against her chest. "He's a good man."

John nodded, and left to catch up with the detective before he was left too far behind.


	5. Reunion

**Omega Refuge**

**Chapter 5 - Reunion**

_BBC Sherlock fan_

_fiction, no copyright infringement intended._

_Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson_

_Warnings: Slash, Omegaverse, Angst_

Sherlock had called a taxi, and directed the driver to take them to Berkshire via the M4. It took less than an hour, during which they both sat in silence, the detective glued to his mobile.

Night was already setting in as Sherlock started calling out directions, which had them pulling off onto a business park just outside of Slough. They had passed many much more grander office headquarters along the motorway, but as John looked around the car park to the buildings they looked abandoned, the economy of recent years having taken their toll.

"Sherlock, are you going to explain what this is about?" John asked as he looked across to his companion who was still looking at his phone.

"Maidenhead Information Services came up as a donator to the refuge. The address used was for this business park, but when I checked rental records these buildings had been vacant for quite some time. I want to check that they are as abandoned as they appear to be on paper." Sherlock slipped his phone away and gestured to a road that led behind the main office building. "There are warehouses towards the back of the grounds. Search there while I take the offices. Try to avoid any security dog patrols; they should be minimal anyway."

Sherlock headed off in the opposite direction, presumably towards a back door to the offices, leaving John alone without another word.

Pulling his jacket around himself in the chill night air, John headed down the small road Sherlock had indicated until he came across rows of warehouses made out of corrugated iron.

Really hoping not run into any Alsatians running loose, John started to walk along the warehouse front, testing the locks and peering into windows for signs of recent life. It was looking like another dead end, and he could feel the disappointment building in him again.

Towards the end of the 2nd row of warehouses, John noted that this one was even boarded up. He tested the small door anyway, and to his surprise it slid open. The inside was empty; however there was light coming from a back office. John pulled his SIG from his back and readied it.

This could be a really bad mistake. This was probably just a squatter, he told himself. John crept around the shadows of the warehouse, avoiding the stream of light coming from the open doorway. As it got closer, he heard a voice and stopped dead. No, it couldn't be.

"...you promised me!" said a familiar voice. It was Ms. Collins, sounding more harried than he'd ever heard her.

John felt his own breath quickening and he tightened the grip on his gun. He crept along the wall, edging around to the door frame, back pressed to the flimsy plywood wall. He heard movement and saw the woman pass to the other side of the office, her back to him. She continued to talk into her phone.

"I've done everything. I've cleared up and there is nothing left to trace!" she said, almost begging, to the person on the other end of the phone.

Without thinking very much, John took his chance and stepped into the doorway, holding out the gun with both hands. "Put the phone down, now," he warned in a voice steadier than he felt.

She stopped talking, lifted the phone away from her ear, ending the call and slowly turning to face him.

She was not as pristine as she usually was. Her blonde bob was no longer coiffured and her makeup had smudged to make her appear every year of her age. She didn't say anything as she stared at him, almost expecting him to shoot her right there and then.

John remembered back to the fuzzy memories of the delivery room the last time he'd seen her. The patronising sounds she made as she stroked his brow, as they chemically forced his child from his womb. She told him how well he was doing, how it would be over soon, how she was going to give the child to some parents who could raise her properly.

The memories increased his rage, and he gripped the gun tighter. "Did she survive?"

The woman didn't reply, just pressed her lips together in a hard line.

"She is alive, isn't she? I swear to God if you hurt her taking her when you did..." John tried to reign in his emotions before they got out of control. He gestured with the gun. "Where is she?" he asked, trying to keep any sign of a tremble out of his voice.

"With her parents, John."

John shook his head at her. "No, I want her back. You can't just take people's children away from them like that!"

Ms. Collins looked surprised. "But John," she said in an overly calm manner. "I just did what you had decided to do anyway. You came to the refuge entirely of your own volition."

"I thought..." John tried to keep calm. "...I couldn't look after her the best, that I wouldn't be able to love her. But I was wrong, and I realised that when she was taken from me."

The older omega sneered. "Now, that's just being selfish."

John faltered. Was he being selfish? "I could do it, it's not impossible." But from the look of disapproval he knew it was useless to even convince her. "Just tell me where she is!" he demanded.

The woman's face remained blank and unmoved. John closed the gap between them to grab the collar of her jacket and bring her to her knees, to shove the barrel of the black gun into her temple. "Tell me."

She just laughed. "You really have no idea what is going on do you?" She looked up at him with her blue eyes. "I'm as good as dead anyway, you might as well kill me."

John pressed the gun harder into her temple, forcing her head down. He hadn't intended to kill her, despite how much he wanted to. She was valuable; she could tell them where Lily was. It looked like she wouldn't though, so what would it matter? He hesitated, finger on the trigger.

A deep voice rumbling from behind him made him stop. "Oh there are things much worse than death, Ms. Collins."

John let go of her, pushing the older woman away from him so she fell onto her hands, and spun around to see Sherlock. The detective gave him a look, that made John step away from her, trying to get his breathing under control.

Sherlock stepped further into the room, hands clasped behind his back, and gave the room a quick glance around. "I see you've destroyed what was left of the incriminating evidence, evidence that leads to your employer."

Whereas she had looked at John with a condescending pity, she looked angrily at Sherlock. "The alpha," she spat.

"Yes, you have shown a pathological hate towards alphas for most of your life, due to that failed relationship. Deep down you think that no alpha will provide for a child," Sherlock said as if it was obvious. "You've managed to misguide yourself into believing that these poor little omegas, like you yourself, have all been betrayed and that the welfare of their children is best served by keeping them out of the reach of further betrayal, willingly or not. Although in recent years greed has become quite the motivator, despite the rationalisations you dress it up in."

Sherlock was standing in front of her now and he looked down at her. "But the future of these children is not your decision to make. The law is quite clear about that."

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Tell John where his daughter is, so she doesn't have to go through what your son did."

Finally Ms. Collins' face fell in alarm. "How did..."

"Sealed records, I know, but there are ways to unseal them. I have not been idle this past week," Sherlock told her. "Tell John so his daughter never has to doubt whether her father truly loved her. That is what plagued your own son throughout his life, which led to drug addiction, petty crime. Then when he finally found you, your rejection and denial of his existence was too much."

"I made sure they were all _good_ parents, " she tried to argue.

"`Good` because they are desperate enough and rich enough to afford your breeding ring fees?" Sherlock looked impatient with the woman. "Tell us and we'll call the police. You might be able to survive retribution from your employer if you co-operate."

From her place on the floor she looked between Sherlock and John, obviously trying to think quickly. She reached some internal conclusion as her body seemed to lose its strength and she crumpled in on herself. "Phillip and Claire Sutcliff, in Reading."

"I see," Sherlock nodded and turned to leave the office, and stopping at the doorway and looking expectantly at John.

John was just rather stunned. They'd got the names. He could so easily pull the trigger and shoot her right now, exact his revenge for what she done to him and to Lily. This is what he'd been planning since she had had him dragged to that clinic. He looked up at Sherlock who was still looking at him.

"There's no need John," was all the alpha said, turning to leave through the back office door, his smart shoes echoing from the larger warehouse space.

John gave the older omega one last look. She seemed defeated and broken. He'd rather not have her blood on his hands now that the possibility of holding Lily for the first time was real. John hurried after Sherlock who was already nearly at the door.

A shot ran out, echoing around the metal structure like a massive thunderclap, and John turned around in surprise. It had come from the office and he could see Collins' visible from the door, a pool of blood around her head. John spun back to Sherlock who hadn't even turned around or broken stride, and was now on the phone as he ducked out through the door.

"We found her, but she's killed herself..." John heard Sherlock say, completely unfazed.

oOo

It had taken little effort to track down the Sutcliffs

After the police had arrived and questioned Sherlock and John, it was clear that Ms. Collins' death was a suicide and really few questions had been asked. It just seemed like the tying-up of the loose ends of a distasteful bunch of opportunists. Case closed.

It took very little time to track down the Sutcliffs using Lestrade, but the police officer had insisted that they not go that night but wait until the next day when feelings were not running so high. Wait for them to arrive and do things properly. John had never given his consent to having his baby adopted; it was really a cut and dried case in the eyes of the law.

So now Sherlock and John stood, outside the motorway side hotel where they'd stayed the night, waiting for Lestrade to pick them up. John felt his fingers fidget and he chewed on the inside of his lip thinking that this was the day; he was going to finally meet his daughter. He hadn't asked Sherlock to come but the detective had been up and waiting for him down in the lobby, reading a newspaper, when John had come down 15 minutes ago. Truthfully John hadn't been able to sleep all night. He had had to force himself not to just get up and order a taxi.

John looked up at the detective beside him, who was casting a curious look down at him. Sherlock must know everything about him; he must be an open book. "It will be fine," was all the detective said before looking up to see a car pull up in front of them. In the front seats were Lestrade and a rat-faced man, and John heard Sherlock groan beside him. "Anderson."

Lestrade waved them in, and they both got in the back seat. The man looked over his shoulder at Sherlock. "Not seen you around for a while Freak. Heard you were pretending to be up the duff or sommat."

"Lestrade, was it really necessary to bring him along? He's hardly known for his people skills beyond married colleagues," Sherlock complained loudly.

Anderson gave him a dirty look, before casting his scathing glare to John. "See you picked up a stray from the knock-up house."

"Anderson!" Lestrade reprimanded and he sighed, turning back to look out the front window.

Sherlock looked thunderous but John couldn't deal with these long standing feuds, so he just looked out at the grass embankments and trees as they made the journey to Reading. Lestrade asked Sherlock about the case. There was the occasional bickering between Anderson and Sherlock before they pulled off the motorway into the outskirts of the city. John noticed what a nice area of suburbia they were heading into, a commuter town where people would live while travelling into London for highly paid jobs.

The car stopped and when they all got out John noticed with dismay the actual street was as idyllic as he had imagined. Quiet residential area, everywhere had neat gardens, and because it was a Saturday there were even kids playing ball games in their driveways. Perfect area to raise a child.

Lestrade told them to wait while they went to talk to the parents first, for this was still a criminal investigation. They went down the little path to the small detached houses and stood at the front door knocking. John waited with baited breath. a young woman came to the door with a smile that instantly fell when she saw the police badges offered to her. She was soon joined by a man at the door and the woman, visibly upset, ducked back inside to let her husband deal with the police.

This was going to be terrible. Lestrade came back up the path to them. "I think we should all go inside," he said grimly.

John felt glued to the spot, not sure whether he should step across the threshold of that perfect little world, when he felt a hand on the small of his back, urging him forward. The doctor set his eyes down on the ground in front of him as he followed Lestrade in.

They were all herded into the living room by the husband, and John briefly looked up at him to see that he looked upset and angry at the people invading his life.

The four of them all sat down on the settees but Mr. Sutcliff remained standing crossing his arms. "So are these the fathers?" he asked angrily.

Lestrade's eye flicked to the both of them. "Dr. Watson is the father. Mr. Holmes is here as a friend."

"So you think you can just take Emma away from us?" The man looked accusingly at John.

Emma? A whole new wave of hurt rolled over John, it felt like another rejection and a reminder that wouldn't have had any say in his daughter's life. John wasn't sure what to say, but instead Sherlock stepped in. "There was never any formal agreement. She was separated from her father forcefully. She was never yours in the first place."

The woman had entered, her eyes already red. "But they told us she was being adopted, that you didn't want her. We've wanted a baby for years!" The husband put his arm around her trying to calm her down. "It's so unfair. We tried for so long, but then some omega goes into heat and gets a baby whether they want it or not." She started quietly sobbing.

John felt another stab of guilt. He was tearing these people up in just the same way that had happened to him. "I'm sorry..." he tried to plead, but the words sounded weak as soon as they left his mouth.

"You're not even bonded are you?" the wife asked. "You come here with this friend. You're going to raise her alone? Are you going to scrounge off the government to raise her? What life is that going to be? we can give her everything she ever wanted." Mr. Sutcliff tried to comfort his wife as she wept onto his shoulder.

It was true. There were practical matters to consider. He hadn't really thought about it. John just figured that if he really wanted this he could work something out. Ms. Collins had been right, he was being selfish. What right did he have to take Lily out of this lovely home, from these people who could obviously care for her better than he could?

Lestrade tried to calm the situation. "Please Mrs. Sutcliff, there really isn't any choice in the matter. This is kidnapping, and while it may be feasible that you were not aware of the illegal means by which she was taken, continuing to withhold her when her birth father is here and wanting her is certainly illegal."

Mrs. Sutcliff was weeping openly now. "Do you want her? Do you really want her?" she asked John through her tears.

John felt his jaw tremble and the words wouldn't come out. He wasn't sure how much longer he could bear this. "Please, let me see her," he begged. "I never saw her before she was taken from me."

The woman looked at her husband, then at Lestrade who nodded to her. She sobbed loudly as she stumbled from the room. "We'll fight this, we have good lawyers," the husband warned.

"That really is futile Mr. Sutcliff, as you do not have a legal leg to stand on. In fact, you may find better use for a lawyer for a defence if there is any evidence uncovered that makes you party to this crime." Sherlock said from his spot on the sofa, leaning back and waving his hand as he spoke, completely unaffected by these people's plight.

But John was affected, and he leaned forward to avoid looking at them. He wanted his daughter, but he felt terrible putting these people through this. When he heard slow footsteps come down the stairs he stood, finding himself unable to speak as he watched the door slowly open. The wife came in, holding a bundle of blankets.

John released a breath of relief. she was there and alive. He almost hadn't been willing to believe it, certain that fate would bring another cruel trick on him. "Please, please let me hold her," he begged in a whisper.

The woman was clearly reluctant to do so, but she gingerly passed her over to him before turning back to her husband to cry into his chest.

John held the small baby in his arms, who looked up at him sleepily. She looked absolutely fine despite being born a month early, and John started crying in relief. He had gone through so much and to finally see her was overwhelming. He swallowed a hard lump and said shakily, "hello Lily." Tears dripped down his face, and he tried to wipe them on the shoulder of his jacket. He felt someone touching his back and he looked up to see Sherlock.

"Let's go, John," the detective said quietly.

The doctor couldn't bear to look at the distressed couple. He heard Lestrade start talking behind them, but he wasn't paying attention as Anderson led them out to the car. As the front door closed behind the couple, John heard the woman's despairing wail, a cry of anguish that made him clutch his chest, suddenly breathless.

"So where to now Dr. Watson?" the police man asked.

John hesitated, holding his baby as tightly as he could without hurting her. Where to now? he had just embarked on single parenthood and was homeless. Could he really go back to Harry?

However, Sherlock interrupted his thoughts. "221B Baker Street," the detective informed him. John looked up the tall man questioningly.

"I have a spare room and am need of a flatmate. You'll both be quite comfortable," Sherlock informed him.

"You're serious?" John asked.

"Of course. I told you when I promised to find her that I would make sure you were provided for." If Sherlock could have John comfortable living with him, all the better. He felt pleased with this outcome; seeing father and daughter reunited settled something within him that felt like it had been flayed open the past week, a weight lifted off his chest. Now he just had to make sure that nothing happened to John or Lily ever again, which was best done if they were kept close.

Anderson looked at the detective in disbelief. "You? Living with a baby?"

"What of it Anderson?" Sherlock snapped back at him. Trust Anderson to try and put John off him. Maybe ANY old baby would not be so welcome to his abode, but John's baby was different. John was different after all, as well as being wonderful; it was highly likely his wonderfulness had a genetic component to it.

"You'll be using it for experiments or something!"

"Not experiments that will cause her any harm," Sherlock said with an eye roll, but he caught the look of horror John gave him. "Just some things to test the progress of her development. I am a scientist after all."

Maybe it was the stress of the past week but John found himself giggling. He'd somehow been caught up in the mad whirlwind known as Sherlock Holmes, with a new daughter in tow. Maybe it would work out. "I guess we're going home Lily," he told his daughter.


	6. Looking after Lily

**Omega Refuge**

**Chapter 5 - Looking after Lily**

_BBC Sherlock fan_

_fiction, no copyright infringement intended._

_Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson_

_Warnings: Slash, Omegaverse, Angst_

John was pleasantly surprised of the nice central location and beautiful Victorian styling of the outside of 221B. It really had been better than he could have hoped for. Sherlock had opened the heavy door with a flourish, letting him go up the stairs with Lily first. At the top of the stairs though as Sherlock took his coat off behind him, when he saw the actual flat he stopped.

The living room was an eclectic mess, books and files piled up everywhere. A few steps in and he could see the kitchen, which had a full chemistry set on the kitchen table.

Lily unsettled in his arms, and he tried to jog her to settle her. This was not a home anywhere near ready for a baby.

Sherlock brushed past him, relieved John of the baby bag Lestrade had retrieved from the adoptive parents and settled his elbow onto the fireplace next to a human skull. "It's a nice place," he declared proudly.

Maybe if it was tidied up, but god how was he going to have time to do that? Then there was all the baby things he needed to get, how was he going to afford that?

John felt ridiculous, but he couldn't help it, he burst out crying. He guessed it was coming down from the wave of hormones over the past few weeks. Then in turn Lily start crying too.

Sherlock looked confused from his place by the fireplace. "What's wrong?" he asked.

John tried in vain to stop his tears, trying to calm the baby too. He gave her a kiss and tried to shush her, it didn't work though. He didn't know what he was doing, did he?

"Nothing," John tried to avail his new flatmates worries. "It'll be lovely."

Sherlock's eyes went around the room, and he seemed to twig what John was thinking. "I can tidy up a bit," he said picking up a stack of journals, and moving them onto another stack.

John could see it was going to be him tidying up in the end, but he tried to get back some British resolve. "It's fine," he told Sherlock going to sit down on the sofa to try and settle Lily.

There was a slow thumping up the stairs, and an elderly lady came through the open door. "Sherlock!" she exclaimed, "where have you been all this time? What's going on?"

"Ah Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock went over to greet her with an unexpectedly warm hug and kiss. "I found a new flatmate, this is Dr. John Watson and Lily." he gestured over to John to the side.

Mrs. Hudson's eyes went over to John and Lily on the sofa, then back to Sherlock. "Oh..." then some light seemed to dawn in her eyes and she grinned, "Oh!" She gave Sherlock a playful smack on the arm, "You dark horse, you never told me you were courting let alone having a baby!"

John's mouth gapped open at her misunderstanding, not sure how to correct her.

Sherlock done it for him, "It's not my baby Mrs. Hudson, it is John's." Not biologically, or legally his own, but that was a mere technicality at this point.

Mrs. Hudson face fell into a moment of confusion before she seemed to shrug it off, she was obviously used to Sherlock's unconventional ways. "Well you better clean up young man, not right bringing a baby into how you live. I'm not doing it for you, I'm your landlady not your housekeeper." Lily was still irritable, and Mrs. Hudson came over to look at her, "Aww isn't she a darling, been a while since I had a baby under my roof. Had five with my first husband, all grown up now. Has she been fed?"

"No," John answered more than a little shell-shocked.

"Then she must be starving, where's the bag? I'll make the bottle just this once, you look all settled on there. How about a cup of tea too?" Before John could answer, she had picked up the bag to go into the kitchen, "Sherlock, why don't you be a dear and put some fresh sheets in the spare room," she glanced back at John and Sherlock "You will be needing the spare room?" she asked cautiously.

"Of course!" John said automatically, a blush creeping onto his cheeks and he averted his gaze down at Lily.

"Don't worry dear, we get all sorts around here. Mrs. Turner's lot well..." She lowered her voice, "I think each child has a different father. Not that I expect that to be happening with you, Sherlock here is a good sort although he makes it hard to tell sometimes. I expect once you settle down the next two or three will come along soon enough. Sherlock's a nice virile alpha, I may be past my child bearing years but I'm still an omega; I can tell these things." She winked at John and went into the kitchen humming to herself without giving him a chance at a rebuttal.

John wanted the world to open up and swallow him, Sherlock however seemed quietly pleased at Mrs. Hudson's glowing testament of his fertility. "I can do the bed sheets," he told John and dashed off up the second set of stairs with quite a spring in his step.

oOo

After she had been fed, Lily soon settled down for a sleep and John took her up to the spare room that was to be their home. He laid her in the middle of the big double bed with the fresh white linen and ended up laying beside her just watching her sleep.

He felt agitated in this unfamiliar place and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. The flat smelt overwhelmingly of Sherlock, and he could hear the alpha moving around downstairs. John could not shake the feeling that someone would come and take her again, so many scenarios.

John watched the slow movement of her chest, and reasoned that with Sherlock about no one would take her. He curled his knees up around her and allowed the exhaustion of his body to pull him into sleep.

His rest was short lived, and some noises made him jerk awake. It was just Lily, who looked like she was about to cry. "Hey hey..." He picked her up trying to sooth her, rubbing her back in small circles. "I guess you need changing..."

He managed to muddle his way through the array of wipes and talcum powder, and feeling at least one small hurdle overcome, picked her up to take her downstairs.

When he reached the bottom, John stopped. There had been some effort to tidy up, whether that was Sherlock or Mrs. Hudson's doing he wasn't sure. Most of the papers and folders had been piled up under the desk so the flat at least looked clearer now. Sherlock sat at the dining table using a laptop.

However, in place of the previous mess was now a pile of boxes and bags, in the green and gold colours of very well known department store. Some of the smaller ones were wrapped in delicate pink paper topped off with large ribbons.

"Uh Sherlock," John began, indicating the boxes best he could with Lily pressed against his shoulder.

The detective looked up from the laptop, "Ah John, they are for you. The owner owes me a favour, I told him I had had a baby and he has gifted these, I think you will find them useful."

John went closer to the pile, and peered inside some of the bags. Inside were baby clothes, toys, bottles, and anything else one might need for a newborn baby.

"I think more might be arriving at a later date, he was rather pleased at the job I done for him."

John gave him a look, "What kind of job? Oh God, did you investigate...?"

Sherlock waved him off, "No, of course not, paranoid conspiracy theories are dull. The MI5 agent on his staff was not so fanciful, and I was only too happy to root him out." He looked over the boxes himself, as if noticing just how many there were, "Paranoid billionaires who are proved right are generous though."

John raised his eyebrows, "I see..." A grin slowly spread across his face, "Thank you."

Sherlock shrugged, and went back to working at his laptop.

John shifted Lily a bit, "I need to make a bottle." He hesitated a bit, "Can you hold her while I do it?"

It was Sherlock's turn to look surprised. John had seen him with Molly's baby, and here he was letting him hold his own child? "Well I suppose...you'll be in the kitchen?"

"Yes, you'll be fine Sherlock, it will only be a few minutes." John tried to reassure the detective and leaned down to pass her over. Sherlock was ridiculously stiff again. "Just put her head there," he arranged the baby until she was in a more comfortable position. "That should do it, ok I'll feed her and then we can see whether there is something in these boxes to sit her in."

John wiped his hands on his jeans, and went over to the kitchen to start making up a bottle of formula, leaving Sherlock literally holding the baby.

Sherlock watched John moving about the kitchen, and when he was satisfied the omega really wasn't going anywhere too far looked down at the baby in his arms. At this stage her vision would be poor, she would just about be able to see far enough to recognise faces. She would soon recognise John's face, and there was a tingle of excitement as Sherlock wondered whether she would come to recognise him too.

Conventional wisdom saw babies as intelligent as a loaf of bread, a completely blank slate. However, a learning AI initially programmed with nothing would never learn anything. Recent theories were that babies were born smart, because they need those inbuilt neurological mechanisms to get smarter.

Sherlock smirked down at the baby, with his help he was sure John's baby could be very smart indeed. This really was a wonderful opportunity to track the development of human intelligence and morality thought to be inborn into all human beings.

He put his finger into her hand, and she reflectively grasped it with her tiny fingers, the palmer reflex. She was proving to be just as fascinating as her father.

oOo

John hadn't even realised his eyes had been closing, but they must have at some point. The past two weeks at Baker Street he had suffered sleep deprivation far worse than any medical school exam season. Lily didn't sleep through the night, and he was just adjusting to the endless routine of feed, burp, change and sleep.

Lily had just gone to sleep in her very posh basket, and John had sat down in the chair watching her, before he nodded off himself.

John wasn't sure how long he had slept when his eyes snapped open, searching for his baby. He always had this feeling that she would suddenly be gone again.

But before him Lily was still there in her basket, now awake and quite happy making the cooing and ahhing sounds that seemed to make all parents go gooey. John felt too tired to be able to appreciate them at the moment.

Beside her on the floor with his back against the leather chair was Sherlock with a pile of brown folders beside him.

"Hmmm...locked room murder Lily," Sherlock muttered as he flipped open a few papers. "But pedestrian! The lover did it. This barely ranks a 3," the alpha said in exasperation and threw the folder to the other side of the room, where John noticed it joined a pile of other haphazardly flung folders. Lily made a gurgling sound.

"I thought so too," Sherlock responded, and picked up another folder from the pile to his left. "This one is a household theft in Chelsea," Sherlock said again as he started flipping through papers and crime scene photos.

John blinked heavily, and rubbed his eyes to try and wake himself up. "What are you doing Sherlock? You're not showing crime scene photos to her are you?"

Sherlock frowned at John. "Of course not, she doesn't have the cognitive resources to understand the existence of an object hidden from view, let alone the complexities of a crime scene."

Still feeling tired and heavy from lack of sleep John restrained a groan. "Then why are you talking to her?"

"Mrs. Hudson took my skull. Besides, babies who have started to exhibit verbalisation develop their verbal abilities when their cues are responded to. The subject of the response is of no relevance."

Of course, Sherlock seemed to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of infant development and the latest research care of Google. "Just don't show her any of the gory photos..." John murmured, and as if on cue Lily let out a high pitched wail.

John groaned and got down onto the floor to lean over her. "What is it Lily?" he asked as if there was any hope of an answer. Her face was going red and was screwed up as she cried.

"She wants to be picked up," Sherlock supplied as he flicked open another page.

John felt her nappy, and she didn't need changing. So he lifted her up out of the basket and cradled her gingerly to his shoulder. This was another thing Sherlock seemed to have a knack for, he seemed to be able to discern her cries from `I'm tired,` to `I'm over stimulated.` John couldn't tell one from the other yet, and it took him to forever to work out her needs. He had to go through a mental checklist and sometimes, even when he'd run through it all, she still cried.

John slumped against the sofa on the floor trying to settle her against his chest, but she didn't calm down. "What is it?" John asked, feeling despair creep up on him. She hadn't eaten that long ago, she was dry, he was holding her, why was she still crying?

Sherlock was studying him with the case file still open on his lap. "She likes to be held tighter John, she won't break." Sherlock slid the file onto the floor, and held out his arms for her. "Let me show you."

John leant forward to carefully hand her over, and Sherlock took her and wrapped his arms around her to hold her closely to his chest. Treacherously she stopped crying for Sherlock, and slowly settled into a sleep.

John looked at them a bit enviously. Sherlock didn't do any of the dirty work of looking after a baby; John was the one caring for her 24/7. But Sherlock seemed to understand her and know what she needed without John's bumbling. From where he was sitting right now, it seemed Lily seemed to prefer Sherlock, despite his rather cold and clinical handling of her. Maybe she sensed her birth father hadn't wanted her until a few weeks ago, which was irrational he knew.

Sherlock noticed John watching him with Lily, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Her adoptive parents were in the habit of swaddling her," he started to explain.

John's body tensed at the mention of her adoptive parents and the difficult memories they brought back, the lingering guilt for the pain he'd caused them.

Sherlock noticed the way John's jaw clenched, and seemed to realise his mistake in mentioning the adoptive parents. He finished his explanation quickly. "She finds the tightness soothing and associates it with sleep time."

Right. Sherlock Holmes: world's only consulting baby detective. At least she was sleeping again, and it wasn't worth disturbing her by taking her back. He let his head loll against the sofa, eyelids feeling heavy.

"You're tired." It wasn't a question.

A small laugh escaped from John, "I'm sure you've heard how many times she wakes up in the night."

"I'm awake anyway," Sherlock replied. The flat was filled with silence as the alpha seemed to hesitate, face unreadable. "You can take a sleep now. I can watch her."

This made John snap his head up, a bit uncertain how to respond to that. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"It's hardly quantum physics John. I have had ample opportunity to observe you over the past week and I believe I am capable of responding to her rather basic needs for a few hours." Sherlock assured him logically.

Logic seemed to be a thing that had escaped John over the past few weeks. He had been at the mercy of hormones and stress, and it had left him physically and emotionally exhausted.

He trusted Sherlock with his life, and truth be told the heady alpha scent that permeated the flat calmed the twitchy reptilian part of his brain and told it that this was a safe place, his alpha was there to protect him. _His_ alpha? Jesus where had that come from? He needed sleep, he wasn't thinking straight.

Looking at the two of them now, Sherlock was probably in a much better state to look after her. John sighed. "Ok, I'll just take a short nap." His eyes were fixed on his baby who was now soundly asleep. "If she wakes she'll be hungry, so come get me and I can..."

Sherlock cut him off with a roll of his eyes. "I know what to do, morons are having babies every day and they seem to manage fine."

Which was probably true. Sherlock probably knew better than he did, John thought. He scrubbed his face. "Just get me if anything is wrong, OK?" John said for good measure, before getting off the floor to disappear up the stairs for maybe a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.


	7. Mycroft

**Omega Refuge**

**Chapter 7 - Looking after Lily**

_BBC Sherlock fanfiction, no copyright infringement intended._

_Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson_

_Warnings: Slash, Omegaverse, Angst_

Sherlock had no cases on at the moment, and was bored. The entire morning he had dissected the flat of any distraction and fiddled with ongoing experiments, but when that had exhausted itself he had sulked about in his pajamas. Not even Lily had been awake to provide a distraction from the abyss of boredom.

At some point, John had discovered there was no milk, and no Mrs. Hudson to borrow a pint from. Sherlock had probably never set foot in the closest Tesco, that went beyond any levels of tediousness Sherlock was willing to subject himself to. It was up to John if anyone wanted a cup of tea, but when the doctor had started looking for the baby carrier to put Lily in Sherlock had plucked her away from his arms and informed her father that the milk errand would be much more efficient if she stayed here with him. Sherlock held her tightly to his chest daring John to take his distraction from him. He'd been waiting all morning for her to wake up.

After a promise that Sherlock would not leave the flat, John had put his own jacket on saying he would be back soon, and to call if anything happened.

Sherlock had waved away John's unnecessary fretting, but was secretly pleased John had let him babysit. Over the past two months he'd managed to ingrain enough trust to look after the baby on his own, even if only for an hour.

He stood at the window with Lily still held close to him, watching John throw a few worried glances back up at them as he walked down Baker street. "There's Daddy. Don't worry he'll be back soon," he assured her, and when John was out of sight he spun with Lily a few times, giddy with delight to have her. There were always experiments he could try on her.

Looking for his stop watch in the clutter around his desk Sherlock didn't hear the door unlock, but when he heard the footsteps on the stairs he stopped and scowled. It was too early for John to be returning with milk, and the slow precise pace indicated it was the most unwelcome visitor.

"Go away," Sherlock growled, his mood instantly souring again, and dropped himself down into his armchair, pointedly not looking towards the door so he would not see the visitor enter the haven of the flat. Holding Lily protectively against his chest, she tugged at the collar of his dressing gown.

"I just thought I'd come to see you playing happy families," rich oily tones replied from the direction of the door before the insufferable figure of his brother Mycroft came into view as he took the armchair opposite; the armchair which John had, since moving in, unofficially claimed as his own. Sherlock wanted to pull the fat oaf out of it, he was messing up the scent of John which had settled into the plush velvet. But he didn't want to give Mycroft the satisfaction of such a reaction that would so easily show his hand, so instead he scowled and remained silent.

His brother infuriatingly took his time to take in the changes to the flat, the additional clutter of baby things and toys, their bright garish colours standing out like a sore thumb against the muted earth tones of the flat. There was an undeniable look of distaste from his sensible older brother.

Mycroft let his expression fall into a fake half-smile when he finally laid eyes on Sherlock and Lily. "I must say I had always hoped for such a scene, he nodded his chin to the baby and gave the appearance of a pleasant smile, but disapproval hardened in his eyes, "but not under these circumstances, that's for sure."

"Piss off," Sherlock spat back. Lily was started by the harshness of his tone and started to make whining noises of distress that could easily turn into full-blown crying. This would not look good if John returned. Internally Sherlock panicked, trying to calm her by stroking her cheek, and she grasped his fingers to comfort herself by sucking on his finger.

Mycroft was watching them with an expression somewhere between confusion and disgust.

"What do you want Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, wanting to hasten his brother's departure.

Mycroft sank lower into the chair, his thin lips pursing together before speaking. "I never thought you foolish enough to allow yourself to be imprinted on an unbonded omega, to allow your hormones to trick you into raising a cuckoo."

Sherlock fought hard to keep his voice steady and calm, "Don't be so ludicrous. I do not need to explain my reasons to you."

"I fear that this unconventional living arrangement will prevent you from finding your own bond mate," Mycroft let out a little sigh and fought the urge to roll his eyes before continuing, "even if that was only a remote possibility to start with."

Sherlock gave a snort. "That was never going to happen and you know it."

"It isn't now you've got yourself attached to this stray and its whelp. Really, was it so much for you to find a bond mate in a conventional manner?"

Sherlock fixed a scowl on his brother, but before he could reply Mycroft continued. "As a fertile alpha you have a duty not only to the Holmes linage but to the country. Even you must be aware of the population crisis."

"You hypocrite. I am not a race horse. Don't pretend I am anything to do with your attempts at social engineering through legislature."

Mycroft averted his gaze down and flicked an invisible speck of dust from his bespoke suit. "You know that it is not possible for me to provide the heir, Sherlock. the Holmes name will die with you. Do not be under the impression that you can circumvent the messy biology necessities and can pass anything onto this bastard you have informally adopted. This is not enough to say you have done your duty to your birthright. I will not allow it to get anything, I will ensure that."

"I would not want her cursed with the Holmes legacy. Now, are you done?" Sherlock said sharply, unmoved by Mycroft's threats. He stood, still holding Lily protectively against him, indicating his brother should go.

Mycroft stood tugging at the bottom of his waistcoat before making to leave, but as he passed Sherlock the taller man leaned in close to his brother. "Her name is Lily," he said lowly, "You will never refer to her as a bastard again."

The threatening tone his brother had taken took Mycroft aback for a moment, and he regarded him closely before letting out a huff of breath of amusement. "Those Alpha hormones..." he said with a shake of his head. "This will so disappoint Mummy if she ever finds out," Mycroft warned before leaving the flat.

oOo

John trudged up the seventeen steps to the Baker Street flat, carrying a plastic shopping bag of milk and a few other impulse purchases that would do for their tea. Truthfully it felt a relief to be out of the flat. He had spent more time than strictly necessary in the supermarket, and he shuffled slowly home to prolong his alone time.

There was no wailing that could be heard from the landing, which was a good indication that things had gone smoothly with Lily for Sherlock. He pushed his way into the main flat and scanned for them, quickly spotting the tall alpha stretched out on the sofa, with Lily sound asleep on his chest. Sherlock was clearly lost in some deep thought as his fingers stroked absently at the fine hair behind an ear.

It was a very sweet scene to behold, one that he never would have imagined from the acerbic alpha. John felt he did not belong in this picture, and swallowed hard before greeting Sherlock with a quiet `hey,` which was ignored anyway.

John left them and busied himself in the kitchen, putting things away as he waited for the kettle to boil. He made two cups of tea and took them into the living room, placing one by Sherlock and taking his own to his chair where he could watch them from a distance. "Were you both ok?" he asked, unnerved by the unusual silence of both his daughter and his flat mate.

"Fine," Sherlock replied without taking his eyes off some spot on the ceiling. His long fingers indicated the sleeping baby. "Familiar scents trigger an emotional response," he said as if that was the logical explanation for the rather cozy scene between them.

Without waiting for a response, Sherlock removed the baby from her position with a confident ease that John envied and got up from the sofa to deposit her in the Moses basket that was near John. "I'm going out," he informed the doctor.

"Oh, okay," John quietly acknowledged, watching Sherlock disappear into his bedroom, and within a few minutes appearing again in one of his impeccable suits. The detective offered neither an explanation as to where he was going or a goodbye before the door slammed on his way out.

John jumped slightly at the noise and glanced worriedly at Lily, relieved to see she was still asleep and there would be no need to pick her up to settle her.

How could Sherlock, the self proclaimed sociopath, get on with her so effortlessly? He had no genetic stake in her, but that didn't seem to matter to him.

John thought that Sherlock would avoid any attachment because neither of them had made moves to becoming bond mates, or maybe just the hormonal effect of having spent time together in John's last few months of pregnancy was enough? But if hormones could have such an effect on someone she was merely living with, why did they not have a similar effect on her biological father?

The pang of guilt deepened and tightened around his chest as he admitted to himself that looking at Lily was like looking at a stranger. This unknown person who had invaded his life, and where he expected the swell of love to grow had remained empty.

Lily chose that precise moment to stir, and John scrunched his eyes closed to try and block it out for a few seconds, to hold onto the peace a bit longer before the avalanche started.

But it did, and John set his tea to the side to get cold and crouched down to pick her up out the basket and cuddle her. "Hey Lily, what's wrong?" he asked as he petted and cuddled her like Sherlock would have done, but to no avail.

She knew didn't she? John shook off the thoughts. "You're just hungry aren't you?" He reasoned, and hoped to God that was the case because Sherlock was not here to offer the comfort she could not find with him.


End file.
